


Look but don't Touch

by Jewelle32, Malami



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Child Abuse, Thoughts of incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 158,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jewelle32/pseuds/Jewelle32, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malami/pseuds/Malami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When feelings you shouldn't have in the first place get involved, nothing is easy in life anymore. Not that it ever was.<br/>Not for the Dixons, anyway.</p><p>Warnings:  Child abuse and implied thoughts of incest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introducing dad

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is love, let us have it!

Will Dixon was standing at the kitchen window, - nursing his usual glass of cheap whiskey - staring outside, transfixed by his 11 year old. Disturbed and sickened by the feelings the boy roused within him as he savagely suppressed them. Managing this task however, he was soon focusing on the scene playing out before him instead.  
It'd been snowing for days on end by now – rare in Georgia to even see frost in the winter. He knew that nothing made Daryl happier than that, the kid probably couldn't remember seeing snow quite like this before – the last heavy fall had been when he was just a baby.  
The window was cheap, single pane – no double insulation for the Dixons, so he could hear Daryl and Merle talking together quite clearly.  
Merle was working on Daryl's bike inside the toolshed, as Daryl was determined to make a larger than life snowman. Every once in a while Merle would come outside and check on his progress. His younger boy's happiness to have his big brother close to him showed in the glow on his cheeks and his bright eyes. As well as in the wide smile on his face. He could tell Daryl was getting more and more excited every time Merle appeared and checked on his progress with his snowman that continued to grow.  
Will was feeling even more guilty than usual on this particular day and he made a promise to himself that he would treat his two sons to a nice dinner later on that the evening.  
For once.  
Feeling bad in all sorts of ways now, the whiskey wasn't taking the edge off like it usually did. Mainly because his eyes kept on zeroing in on his younger son's rosy cheeks, where mingled with their healthy tint were the blue and purple bruises he'd put there only yesterday. The fact that he was also sporting another split lip, made the boy look less innocent than he was. Those ugly bruises was sure to let everyone know that 11 year old Daryl had it anything but easy in life. The thought made Will frown, he didn't like how Daryl seemed to be able to get under his skin like this. Yesterday he was angry enough to blurt out that Daryl and Merle weren't his sons. And here he was, regretting some of the rage he had unleashed on his youngest, too small to defend himself even if he wanted to.  
He also felt bad because Daryl hadn't been allowed to go and play around his friend's house, which left him dogging Merle. More often than not, Merle didn't mind. Every once in a while, he too would fall for those eyes looking up at him with hope and he'd be damned if Merle didn't enjoy himself when he helped Daryl with the last part of the snowman.  
He witnessed Daryl looking up at Merle with those big, blue, puppy-dog eyes, looking at his big brother with such open awe and admiration that it made Will clench his fists by his sides. Daryl idolized Merle, he really did.  
Daryl used to look at him like that once-upon-a-time before his Mama died and everything went to shit. Before the drinking and the drugs. Now all he got was those big eyes staring at him with fear and apprehension. When they weren't following him and his every move in terror, they were flitting about the room,looking for the nearest exit.  
His eyes always on alert, looking for the quickest way out, away from him – his own father.  
But did Will also detect a sneer in them sometimes?  
Worst of all - whenever he raised his voice or his hand only to touch Daryl's hair or arm in harmless affection, his son would flinch and recoil from him like he was the devil. If Will raised his voice slightly, even if he wasn't angry, the boy would nearly jump out of his skin.  
Will nearly choked on his drink when he saw his youngest cling onto his big brother's hand and Merle led him gently to the shed. Opened the door et voila! The bike was fixed. Merle flourished his hand proudly at it while Daryl beamed up at his big brother like he was his hero.  
This scene should have warmed his heart but instead, he felt it freeze in his chest, as a stab of jealous rage pierced him, as he vowed he would find a way to use their love for each other against them. Having done exactly that the night before, Will knew it was a game he would never get tired of playing.  
He'd kept him close to home that day mostly because he didn't want everyone to witness the results of the worst beating he'd ever given to Daryl in public. Not that it would make any difference. Probably, nobody would even be surprised.  
Wife-beating and harsh child discipline was the norm in their rural Georgia neighborhood. He'd heard men, his friends amongst them, boast about whose families were most scared of them in bar backrooms. People around here already knew about his new habit of taking his increasingly bad temper out on his sons. But it was only a matter of time before some sappy soul reacted. His rage and need to lash out at someone increased with his drinking and his occasional drug taking and it was locally known not to mess with him. Even so, he couldn't stop his abusive ways. It was like a vicious circle and when he was sober enough, he immediately regretted everything he'd done to them. Regretting his thoughts, even.  
There was always mixed emotions of anger and regret after he had a tantrum. Sometimes the thoughts in his head got worse after that third feeling made itself known. That last emotion that made him want to bite down on his knuckles. Knowing how wrong it was did nothing to ease the discomfort and disgust it made him feel with himself. It usually ended with a tantrum out of the blue, leaving Daryl to answer for something he didn't know he'd done wrong in the first place.  
When his thoughts didn't take an inappropriate turn, they made him want to gather Daryl onto his lap and rock him as he gave him comfort. He wanted to kiss those tears away at the same time he wanted to beat them right off his face.  
Moreover, his younger son's skittish and nervousness irritated Will Dixon to say the least. He and his brother couldn't have been more different if they tried and Will would often wonder whether his wife had always been faithful to him. If Daryl might belong to some other man. But he'd dismiss that thought as soon as it reared its ugly head in his mind. Not possible because the boy showed spine sometimes when least expected, showed glimmers of being Dixon at times. So Will just concentrated on beating the rest of the Dixon into Daryl, toughening up the boy who was too gentle for his own good. Knowing he'd never survive in their world otherwise.  
He couldn't understand the difference between them because Merle had received pretty much the same treatment as Daryl was now. For a couple of years since their mother had died. But then Merle had always been a handful. Loud, brash and obnoxious, he'd rebelled and even defied his father openly occasionally.  
Yet, Merle never cringed or cowered like little Daryl, he'd respond with his fists whenever he felt threatened. Never made a sound – wouldn't lower himself to whimper or plead for mercy like his brother whenever he punished him. He'd made it into a game between them, leaving his father to try and force him to show weakness by more and more extreme punishments. In fact, the only time Will had ever heard Merle cry out in pain was when he was using the knife on him and his hand had suddenly shook and he'd unexpectedly cut deeper than he normally did.  
But Merle hadn't suffered his rages lately, unlike before. Instead, Daryl had been bearing the brunt of his anger, not least because his older brother was never at home these days.  
The time alone they were having with each other was taking their toll on Will. The feelings wouldn't go away, instead they increased in both frequency and intensity the more time he was forced to spend alone with Daryl. Because of this, he was always on edge and ready to blow his top.  
Before, Merle'd been the one to distract him from Daryl by making him angry - usually by talking back to him. Will knew that he couldn't be seen as weak by backing out of punishing Merle, he would never hear the end of it. Instead of letting him have it right then and there, Will usually waited when he was least expecting it.  
He felt a reluctant respect for his oldest son not only for his courage, but the reason behind it all. Merle deliberately provoked him to protect his brother every chance he got. Despite his ribbing and teasing, Will knew that he loved Daryl deeply. Always ready to protect him at his own expense, taking the pain and humiliation that was meant for his younger brother proved that fact a thousand times over.  
Merle was usually successful at pissing him off and diverting Will's anger towards him instead. More often than not, it made him forget all the things that he'd planned to do to Daryl in order to toughen him up. At the beginning, he'd thought the things he'd done to Merle was going to be more than enough to take care of that. But Daryl apparently needed more and more extreme discipline until the boy started acting like a man, like a Dixon. But he rarely did.  
11 year old Daryl had cried and whimpered, desperate for the blows to stop coming from every direction making it that much harder for him to shield himself. Never knowing where his father's fist or heavy boot was going to land next. However, his pathetic noises made Will even more furious. Even more unforgiveable, Daryl was trying to get away from the blows raining down on him. This contrast between his brave attempts to escape and his crying made his furious father drag out the punishment longer than it had to be.  
There was that, and there was that other God forsaken feeling threatening to bubble to the surface again as he straddled his terrified son. Enjoying the fear in his eyes more than he should. The small boy panicked of course, and tried to get his father to stop. Instead of listening, he'd kept him firmly in place and occasionally pinned Daryl's wrists over his head to get his hands out of the way that had prevented Will from getting in a clean blow.


	2. Big Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is love, let us have it!

Will Dixon recalled all hell breaking loose when Merle got home from school or wherever the hell he'd been. The scene that met him once he returned home was his Dad beating the crap out of his little brother and his father's fist raised to deliver even more damage to his already swollen and bloody face. Daryl instinctively tried to protect it and his head while doing his best to get away.

Merle could see that his baby brother was quaking with terror, could hear the pathetic whimpering sounds he was making when he gave him a cursory glance right after he stormed in. Enraged, he'd screamed at his father and rushed forward in full attack-mode. He'd been so mad at him that he even pulled a knife out on him.

Will simply got up in response and yanked Daryl up, threatening to use the belt on him for Merle to see but at least he stopped using him as a punch-bag. The older brother's eyes went black with anger at that, he could clearly see his brother's trembling while he uttered small sounds of terror in protest. He even directed some of his incoherent babbling at Merle, pleading with him to drop the knife.

Will just smirked in answer to this and pulled Daryl tighter to him. Using the love for each other this way for the first time had proved handy. 'Drop the knife.' He told him quietly, calmly and using all his paternal authority.

Merle snarled, baring his teeth like a rabid dog but he did as he was ordered. Will, for his part shook his other son who had a nasty black eye among other bumps in a face swollen and bloody. Merle didn't know how long it had been going on before he'd intervened but he'd have bet his life that there were more bruises all over Daryl's body – he just couldn't see them. The thought of the black and blue marks all over his small frame made him clench his fists at his sides. Even though part of him was angry with Daryl for behaving like a little whiny kid before he took a step back mentally and corrected himself. Because that's what he was – an 11 year-old kid.

"What did he do this time? Must have been somethin' pretty bad, huh? Think ya punished him enough now, Dad?"

Will shrugged, preteending that he really didn't care. Merle's interruption had brought him rudely back to the reality of what he was doing and the rage had begun to finally die away, allowing a little regret to sink in. He couldn't even remember what he was punishing Daryl for. He'd been drinking all day and he knew he'd had a reason to start with but he'd forgotten it once he started beating the shit out of him. But he never seemed to be able to forget those feelings he shoved deep down himself. The part of him that he was forced to keep in check daily - the impulses he made damn sure to carefully slam the lid down on in a hurry whenever the havoc of his feelings for his youngest boy threatened to swallow him whole.

Threatened to make him do something he could never, ever take back.

With that, he looked down at Daryl, who despite his former terror and the pain he must be in, stared right back at him defiantly with his legs astride and arms stubbornly crossed over his chest. Looking for all the world like a Dixon. But Will knew that it was his older brother's presence that had effected this sharp turnabout in attitude, he wasn't like this when it was just the two of them alone. Daryl simply felt safer whenever his beloved big brother was near. This proof of their closeness made his anger rise to the surface again.

'Ya lucky I didn't use the belt on you, you little pussy. Then you'd be really fuckin' cryin'."

'Leave him alone, Dad. He's had enough, whatever he's done.'

Will picked up his now whimpering and cringing son by the scrap of the neck, shook him again like a ragdoll and immediately dropped him to the filthy carpet like so much trash. Daryl cowered down on the floor, not daring to move until ordered to and Merle could see his chest pumping in and out rapidly as he tried to fight to regain some control over his shaky breath. 'Get out of my sight, before I change my mind.' His father snarled down at him.

Daryl didn't need to be told twice. He immediately got up and scrabbled over to his brother – Will was blocking his exit to the hallway, and it was clear that he didn't want to risk going round him.

Merle yanked Daryl towards him and gave him a shove so that he was behind his back, and glared at their father. 'You hit him again and I'll fuckin' kill ya, Dad. He's eleven years old for fuck's sake.'

He only laughed humorlessly at that. 'You try and you better kill me, son. Ya know ya can't beat me. Neither of you are sons of mine – no Dixons. Can't be.'

They stood glaring at each other in a tense standoff but Daryl felt safe behind Merle, knew that he would never let Will get at him to hurt him and that he was big enough now for their father not to bother even trying. The fact that he wouldn't was pretty clear in the feral snarl on his face and his fierce expression directed at their father.

'You wanna protect him, go ahead, Merle. But remember, you can't always be there to save him every time he whines.'

'I can fuckin' try! I mean what I said. Ya better leave him the fuck alone in future.'

Their father ignored this outburst and looked down at Daryl instead, addressing him directly. 'You're a little coward, ain't no Dixon. Hidin' behind your big brother jus' like the little pussy ya are. Not takin' ya punishment like one neither. Not for nearly long enough, anyway. Are you feelin' proud of yourself, son?'

Will could see that he had stopped trembling and the terror seemed to have left him. Mostly, Daryl's features twisted from the fearful expression he had just seconds ago to an angry one instead.

'Fuck you!' He suddenly yelled, Will's eyebrows rose at this, sure he had inherited the Dixon potty-mouth at an early age, but Daryl rarely cussed at him. Wouldn't dare. He put it down to it being that he felt safe behind his brother's outstretched arm which was shielding him. 'All I did was make myself a sandwich 'cos I ain't eaten nothin' all day! I ain't bad like you said! Didn't do nothin' wrong!'

Will growled at this show of defiance while Merle smirked almost proudly but leaving him high and dry and feeling vulnerable when he took a few threatening footsteps towards their father. This obviously made Daryl feel scared again and he backed up against the wall searching for something solid to hold onto to help him stand.

Merle looked pissed off to say the least, telling him silently with his baleful glare to leave his little brother alone. Will shook his shoulders casually. Looking at the battered state of his youngest, he was just about ready to reluctantly agree with Merle: he'd punished him enough for today, it was true. But he was too proud to admit it directly.

'You go right ahead and have him then, Merle. He makes me so angry at the moment I might end up killin' him. Snivellin' little shit.'

With that being said, he left the room, to go and grab his wallet and drown his sorrows in the local bar.

Merle sighed in relief that the danger was over. He turned around to check his baby brother over, taking some napkins with him on the way. He crouched down in front of him so that they were roughly at eye level. 'Ya OK, baby brother?' He asked and started to gently wipe some of the blood off his brother's face, carefully avoiding the worst of the bruising while his other hand held him still firmly by his shoulder.

Daryl's head was pounding behind his battered face, one black eye was swollen shut already and there were more bruises on his ribs. But he nodded, holding the pain in, even tilting his chin up as if to suck it all up in front of his big brother.

'You stopped him, like ya always do. I'm OK.'

Merle grinned at this little white lie, choosing to believe it and ruffled his baby brother's hair fondly although his blind faith in him made him feel a little uncomfortable. 'Jus' try to stay out of his way in future, especially when he's been drinkin' or getting' high. Don't give him any excuse to hit ya.'

Daryl nodded obediently. Looked up at Merle like he was his hero.

'And you tell me if he ever does that shit to ya again, OK, little bro? Let's go and get you cleaned up, huh?'

'OK.' Daryl beamed at him in relief. 'Let me go now, Merle, will ya? Ain't made of glass.'

But the way he swayed when he released him seemed to belie his words. His big brother frowned as his sharp hunter's eyes honed in on his brother's limp as he watched him shuffle off but he didn't say anything and merely followed him in the direction of the bathroom. Anyway, the atmosphere had become more relaxed as soon as they heard the front door bang, announcing their father's departure and they had both let out a sigh of relief at the same time, making them laugh nervously. No doubt he'd come back drunk as a skunk but at least he'd probably pass out before morning and not bother either of them.


	3. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is having a harder time separating thoughts from actions, is feeling guilty going to be enough to hold him back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is love, let us have it!

After they were sure they were safe and Dad wasn't coming back until he was wasted, Merle made them a bite to eat and they spent an uneventful evening in front of the TV. He was good at inventing new fusion dishes out of whatever scraps was left in their sparsely-furnished home. Sometimes he would mix stuff that didn't go together just for the hell of it, like mashed potato and blue bubble-gum or sausages and apple pie, causing his brother to dissolve in fits of laughter. Merle made sure to make him laugh at least once a day, knowing full well that he alone was the only person lately that could get a giggle out of him. If you didn’t count some of his little brother's friends or on occasion, their father's buddies, especially Smitty or Mike. But he didn’t like Daryl hanging around that crowd too much, they were a bad influence, not to mention high more often than they were sober. 

He knew he had a hard time trusting anyone else to watch out for his little brother besides himself and that he needed to work on that. It had more to do with their harsh upbringing than anything else. The impulse to protect was always there, no matter where they were or with who. Eventually he knew he would have to ease up a little because it wouldn’t do to carry on treating his brother like that once he started into his teens. Even though Daryl wasn’t as vicious as he, himself could be when riled, Merle knew that he had a fiery temper of his own. Was not to be underestimated just because of his age and size. 

**  
Neither of the boys were awake when Will called the evening off, breaking his habit of passing out at the bar. Instead, he decided to return home early. Fresh air did him good and sobered him up and as he drew closer to home, he felt the familiar stabs of guilt in his chest when the flashbacks began to assault him. Of him standing over his sobbing son with his fists raised above his head while Daryl pleaded with him to stop. The boy had been scared witless naturally but at the same time, showed glimmers of that famous Dixon anger under the surface. Even when he tried to reason with his father who simply refused to listen. Remembering everything he'd done to him, Will felt full of regret. So, when he came to the house, he slipped in quietly and went upstairs to quickly check in on Merle who was lying on his back sound asleep. He knew nothing could wake that boy up when he was sleeping like that.

It wasn’t long until Will found himself standing outside Daryl’s door and taking a couple of deep breaths wondering what he would see when he went inside. Usually, whenever he lost his temper, he didn’t realize how much he’d actually hurt him and it was always a shock when he looked at the results of his latest work up-close. This time was certainly no different. The little light that was still left on in the room by the bed helped Will to see. And it was like slap in the face. He moved in further into the room, closer to his sleeping son. He sighed, Daryl leaving the light on was a sure sign that he didn’t feel safe in his own home. Will shrugged his shoulders, why would he? He was usually a cheap and not tolerant man when it came to the boys' usage of what he saw as unnecessary electricity, but this time, he couldn’t find it in him to even bring it up. 

When he finally reached his destination, he muffled a gasp at the bundle of bruises lying there.  
Daryl's blanket had slipped off of him almost completely, leaving nothing of the damage inflicted on him to the imagination – his face was a swollen mess of blue and black bruises and cuts. Down his side, Will winced when he caught sight of more patches of blue-black skin over his ribs where his pyjama top had ridden up. Merle had done a very good job of cleaning the blood off but he couldn't erase the signs of abuse and their father realized he’d gone too far this time. Much too far. Feeling disgusted with himself, he mumbled an ashamed 'Daddy's sorry' and got carefully behind the sleeping form to gently take him up in his arms. 

He held him close to him for a while, marveling at how much heat the boy radiated.  
Even Merle hadn’t been dealt a beating that brutal at the tender age of 11. Almost overcome with the guilt, Will started mumbling apologies again in his ear while he took in his clean smell.  
“I’m sorry, daddy’s sorry. Didn’t mean it, ya know I didn’t. I jus' lost it.” He whispered softly, closed his eyes and let his lips brush over the back of his son’s neck. “Didn’t mean what I said neither, of course you’re my son, look at ya. Lookin’ more like your mama every day.” Will wasn't aware at first that his hand was traveling down along the side of his sleeping boy’s body as if by itself before it came to an abrupt stop at his hips. He wanted to pull it away but he found that for some reason, he just couldn’t.

He told himself that he wasn't hurting him just by touching, right? Besides, Daryl was fast asleep and didn't know what was happening.  
Letting his hand rest casually on his son's hip, he looked down to smile tenderly at the boy who would usually do just about anything when awake to get a small token of approval like that from him: “You’ll always be my special boy, ya know that, don’t ya? No matter what I say or do.”  
He turned Daryl over onto his back then, carefully, to not wake him. He just sat there, looking at his son in silence, stroking his cheek with his thumb and taking expert care to avoid the worst of the bruising. He gave in to the temptation after only seconds of looking at those swollen, cut lips and pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Daddy’s sorry, I’ll make it up to ya. Don’t ya worry.”

With that, his son's eyelids fluttered open as he sleepily took in the form of his father next to him on his bed. “Dad?” He drawled with a voice heavy with sleep.

“Shh, it’s alright. Just checkin’ on ya.”  
Daryl's eyes suddenly filled with panic and he looked just about ready to get up from the bed and run once he'd shaken off the worst of his drowsiness.  
But Will stopped him, pushed him back down onto the bed. “Sh...sh...No need to run, boy. I’m sorry for what happened today. How ya feelin'?”  
When all the answer he got was Daryl’s eyes glazing over with confusion and still with a hint of panic, Will shook his head reassuringly towards him. “Hey, it’s all right. I lost control. Ya hurtin’ pretty bad, son, huh?” When he saw Daryl chew on his split bottom-lip while he thought of how best to answer to avoid even more pain and punishment, Will brushed away some of his hair from his forehead. 

When his son leaned into his touch, a wave of tender feelings washed over him. When he didn't flinch or cringe back for once, even though he was the very person that caused him all the pain he was experiencing now. “Hurts a lot, don’t it son?”

“Mhm…” He mumbled, clearly wanting to go back to sleep.

“I know. Ya want something for that?”

“I’ll be fine. Don't worry, Dad.'

Will guided his son so that his back was against his chest again, holding him close in a bearhug. “Ya just go back to sleep now, son. It’ll be a bit better in the mornin’, I promise.”  
******  
Will was annoyed over how much this scene kept replaying in his mind over the few weeks that passed, the feeling of Daryl’s smooth and warm skin under the palm of his hand. Not to mention when his lips were pressed to the corner of his son’s mouth. Then, the way he had leaned into him, wanting more affection. He found himself drifting off into space several times a day reminiscing all of it, and it always happened whenever Daryl was there in front of him.  
….  
The day came when he lost it big time – him going even further than he did when he forced his youngest son to take that savage beating. It all started when he opened the bathroom door. He quickly forgot what he'd gone to get from there in the first place because the vision of his eleven year old son standing there made his mouth drop in astonishment. Daryl was in the shower, oblivious to the fact that he had an admiring audience. 

Right then, he looked like a huge, soapy foam-ball before he rinsed the shampoo off with slow movements enticing Will, who traced the shape of his slim body with his eyes like he was licking it with them.  
Will already knew that his youngest son was going to be differently built than him and Merle, both of them naturally had more bulk. Strong bones. Sure, he was just a boy, but at this age Merle had started to not only toughen up mentally but physically, too.

Daryl’s graceful movements reminded him of a lithe cat and like a feline, he was just as highly-strung. To put it succinctly, to his own father the boy simply looked good enough to eat.  
Will clenched his fists at his sides again, cursing himself inwardly. Why was he getting aroused at seeing his own son in the shower? What the hell was wrong with him?

He suddenly felt the old, familiar anger begin to rise again inside him, that misplaced rage towards his son who dared to make him feel this way. Full of rage now, he stepped out from his line from sight knowing that Daryl would soon be done showering. Will walked with determination towards the living-room to get his belt. After he picked it up, he squeezed the buckle in his hand hard enough to break his own skin before he positioned himself outside the bathroom waiting for Daryl to emerge. He would only be wearing a towel and that suited Will’s intentions perfectly. 

Meanwhile, he felt a few lingering seconds of doubt over what he was about to do to spoil the boy’s mood when he hadn’t really done anything bad to deserve it. He listened to him singing softly – an old folksong his Mama had taught him, meaning that he was happy, relaxed. Will had been taken aback when he heard it because it reminded him of her and of better times and he almost left the boy to it. But when he heard Daryl turn off the shower, the knowledge that he was naked and his modesty would soon only be covered by a little white towel was too exciting to resist. So, when Daryl opened the door and left the bathroom, he found himself in a steely death-grip.


	4. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will does something unforgivable - His thoughts gets more detailed and graphic in this one so please don't read if you're bothered by that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love - let us have it! :)

Notes: Feedback is love, let us have it!

Will does something unforgivable - His thoughts gets more detailed and graphic in this one so please don't read if you're bothered by that.

He was too surprised to even flinch or struggle. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"Think you wasted enough hot water, ya greedy little shit?" Shaking him, he noticed Daryl's lips were slightly trembling in the cold air after coming from the steamy bathroom. Somehow, he knew it wasn't from fear. Will had long become an expert at reading the signs of it on his two sons' faces and this wasn't it. And he felt pissed over that fact.

"Any left for your brother and me? Ya ever think about that?" He snarled instead as he released him.

Stumbling on unsteady legs because he realised the danger he was in, Daryl moved backwards towards his room. "It wasn't that long. I'll be back, just wanna get dressed."

"There's no need for that, son.''

Daryl just stared at him and his feet stopped moving then, sensing he dark mood of his father. 'Wha..What?' He stammered.

'Oh, you know, son. Don't pretend ya don't know what I'm talkin' about.' Will crooned at him. He enjoyed the foreplay so to speak, the anticipation of it almost as much as the main event. Messing with Daryl's mind beforehand and getting him confused. Racking his brains no doubt, trying to figure out why Will was pissed at him this time, thinking that it couldn't just be from standing in the shower too long. He hoped his weird comment would instil some fear and respect back into the boy.

But the only answer he got was him staring at him with a set of eyes that shined bright with fear as he noticed the belt dangling from Will's right hand, drawing a smirk from his father.

"Can't even answer, 'cos ya know ya did wrong, can ya, boy? Get back inside that bathroom.'

"W...Why?"

"Jus' do it!" He barked, making Daryl jump. Obediently, he walked back inside and stood next to the bathtub, his face grown pale and his eyes full of questions at this strange command. That was until his father's next words made what was about to happen clearer if it wasn't obvious before: "Bend over it."

"What? No! I wasn't that long!"

"Bend over, or it'll be worse." Will ordered him coldly.

He could tell being covered only by a towel around his waist made his son uncomfortable, to say the least. Probably, he was afraid that it would slip off while he was being whipped but he was a good boy and did what he was told. Out of habit, he braced himself by clinging to the edge of the bathtub.

Will felt a moment of doubt when he could so easily see his son obey and tense up, preparing his body for the pain to come. Something about his bravery and resolve touched Will, or aroused him - he wasn't yet sure which. But when his eyes roamed to the towel hugging his son's hips, he steeled himself again and brushed all thoughts of not going through with it aside. The fleeting desire to rip it away and have his hands hugging those hips instead of the fabric had been almost too overpowering.

The only way for him to stop himself giving in and showing mercy was to double up the belt in his fist. He was trying to calm himself with the familiar feel of the leather in his hands, knowing that the impulses and the need to touch would soon die away once he started and got more into meting out discipline. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as he heard the reassuring swish, the whine of the buckle that shortly followed before it hit skin and left its first mark.

Daryl took the first five lashes like a champ in total silence.

But on the eighth, Will could see the change in him when his knuckles turned white while he squeezed the edge of the bath tub as hard as he could making him pause.

"What's the matter with ya, boy? Why ain't ya whinin' and pleadin' like you usually do?"

Daryl stubbornly refused to answer him, silently defying him and enraging Will further. Now, when he resumed the whipping, he wasn't holding back at all, not in the force of the lashes or where he aimed them.

The towel fell to the floor during the twelfth causing Will to stop. Mesmerized he stared at his now fully naked son's trembling body tense with pain, especially his buttocks. He could tell that Daryl was struggling to keep standing but still hadn't uttered one sound of pain up to this point.

Disgusted with himself, Will clenched his jaw together and determinedly looked elsewhere, anywhere other than his son's body and bloody back. Yet his eyes was drawn to a single drop of blood slowly making its way down his boy's side and he followed it as it trickled down over his hip.

He felt the urge to stop, to say he was sorry, that he didn't mean it and make it all better, like he always did. But this time, he found that he couldn't. Probably because Daryl hadn't even cried out in pain yet. That usually made him break up the punishment but there was a subtle change. If it was in him or his son, in them both, Will didn't know for sure.

For the first time, it was like Daryl was challenging him, almost as if he was making a point to his father, telling him that nothing he could do to him would ever make him beg for it all to stop.

Daryl turned round after a while to stare at him, hoping it was finally over. This slightly defiant move finally snapped Will out of his thoughts of having mercy on the boy, instead, with the soft side of the belt he lashed out again, flicking Daryl on the cheek. 'Face back to the wall, boy! I ain't done with ya yet.' He barked.

Even at this, his son didn't react. Will had the suspicion that maybe he was in shock. He must be in a lot of pain but he couldn't see it from his expression.

His face had been empty of emotions.

He was annoyed that Daryl still managed to get under his skin when he was punishing him, that he was capable of making him waver in his resolve when Merle had never made him hesitate. Daryl should be crying and begging for him to stop by now.

Will had always treated his brother differently when he punished him. He'd usually carry on for a while just so the boy wouldn't think him weak but eventually he'd stop to soothe him and to apologize.

Was it only because he was the youngest?

Will shook his head, confused even at how he himself was acting. Now that Daryl was doing what Will always wanted - acting like a Dixon and taking his punishment without showing any signs of being in pain - it wasn't enough. He missed the way Daryl usually reacted, the sounds of helplessness and protest the boy made or his pleas for mercy. Will knew he had to step up his game.

Daryl probably didn't realize it, but by being brave, he was also implying that Will Dixon was weak without speaking a word and his father just couldn't have that.

Increasing the pace in which the belt buckle rained down on his back now, he took out his new surge of wrath on him. But after a while of this, with still no response from Daryl, frustrated he tried something else by deliberately changing the frequency and the timing of the whippings.

Sometimes lashing him twice very fast or leaving a gap between the blows. This meant that Daryl was unable to anticipate when or how many would come, making the experience even worse for him and all Will could hear now was the slaps of the belt on his skin and his son's labored breathing. He'd begun to scream out occasionally now but he still didn't cry or beg for him to stop.

On some level he was proud of his boy who had never shown this much endurance before. Like he was forcing himself to grow up fast, almost.

That was until his hands let go of the bathtub and he collapsed to the bathroom floor, sobbing and burying his face in his hands. Obviously not caring about the consequences of moving from his spot without permission. Part of Will felt relief, he knew how to deal with him when Daryl was behaving like he was used to and now he could comfort him.

It was no wonder really that the boy had simply given in, what with the 25 ugly whip marks oozing blood on his back, added to the ones he already had.

More than that that, the desperate sobs coming from his youngest son flicked some switch inside him and he dropped the belt suddenly and grabbed Daryl and held him to his chest on the bathroom floor. He couldn't bring himself to care that he was getting his shirt all smeared with blood as he started to silently rock him back and forth in his arms, letting him know that it was over.

But Daryl carried on crying, didn't seem to even be aware of what was going on.

Will was shocked himself at the bloody mess that was his son's back now and he was also aware that Daryl would be scarred for life again after this. Even his big brother's back wasn't as marked up as this – not from the belt, anyway. All because of an impulse of rage and inappropriate thoughts and him simply getting lost in the moment, he hadn't realised how bad he was hurting him at the time. Now he felt like a real asshole when he could feel his son begin to tremble in his arms again. If it was from fear or just shock, he couldn't tell but guessed that it was probably from both.

It didn't really matter either when he saw his son trying to keep his noise down and getting frustrated when he couldn't control his emotions.

"Hey, you did good. This time I forgive you for cryin'."

He didn't answer or react and suddenly a chilling fear took hold of Will when being afraid for him was as rare as snow in July. But the realisation that maybe he had gone too far this time made him scared shitless. Punishing his son like this had all started out as a thought, an impulse. What if he gave in to his other impulses as well? What if he couldn't resist? All it took, really, was one moment of weakness like this one. The thought terrified him to say the least. He shook his head, looking down on his son who was still sobbing in his lap.

'I know. I know, it hurts.' He spoke softly close to his ear with a voice thick with regret. 'I'm so sorry, Daddy's sorry. Why do you continue doing it to me, huh? Why can't you jus' be a good boy for once?'

Miraculously, Daryl stopped crying and started struggling after his initial freeze when his father had pulled him to him. No doubt, he'd been expecting further and possibly even more brutal treatment for moving away from the bathtub without Will announcing that the punishment was over.

Daryl stirred in his lap, the shock slowly leaving him: 'Get off me!' He hissed, clawing at his father's hands around him, struggling to get free from the monster who'd hurt him so badly.

'Sh...sh...I'm not gonna hurt ya.' Will tried to calm his son as he rocked him faster because he knew he was terrified and in agony despite the new brave face he was putting on.

While he was trying to make it all better like none of it had happened, he was starting to feel something - down there. His crotch namely, which his son's naked buttocks were innocently rubbing up against each time he tried to move away.

But hadn't Will wanted this to happen? The towel to fall off? Otherwise, why didn't he just let the boy get dressed before punishing him? Or at least put on some pants?

Will felt his face go red as he tried to shake these unnatural thoughts out of his head.

He was suddenly more aware of the squirming young, plump yet slim body he held in his arms. If you didn't count his back that had now been permanently marked by him, Daryl had perfect, baby-smooth skin.

'Why couldn't ya be a girl Merle's age?' He heard himself mutter in his son's ear as if he had no control over his mouth. Daryl stopped struggling then to turn around to stare at him in shock. He hadn't heard, had he?

Will wasn't an idiot, he knew it was wrong getting excited from holding his son in his lap. And it was more than wrong – it was damn sick to have his body reacting the way it was now.

Daryl didn't seem aware of it though, and Will thanked God or whatever higher power if there was any, for that.

He tried to explain it to himself the best way he could, that he just enjoyed the friction it created, and the fact that it was Daryl providing it had nothing to do with it. Just his body's physical reaction. But he knew better.

It had been so long since he'd got some – their Mama'd been gone for two years and there'd been some broads in between. But they hadn't hung around long after they'd had a personal taste of the infamous Dixon temper.

Of course, he always knew how to take care of himself and when he did, he found his 11 year old son gradually replacing the pin-up models he usually fantasized about. Afterwards though, he felt guilty and was disgusted with himself.

But they were only fantasies. Fantasies couldn't hurt Daryl, could they? He vowed he would never give into these sick desires he found himself experiencing more of lately. To his complete horror, powerful and vivid pictures assaulted his mind then, making him bite the inside of his cheeks to stifle a groan. They mostly involved throwing his little boy onto the hard bathroom floor and taking him there just like that.

This made him hold onto his son tighter, to stop him from slipping out of his grip, at the same time he grimaced to himself. How could he even think that way? What kind of sick mind did he have? He, for damn sure wasn't no fag and he hated kiddie-fiddlers even more than he hated gays and niggers. Or the jews.

He tried to block out these images as much as he could by snorting through his nose to calm himself down.

'Stop strugglin'. I said I'm not gonna hurt ya.' He still kept his voice soft but now there was a dangerous undertone of impatience to it. He attempted to shift Daryl in his lap, off his groin because by now, he was desperate for his son to stop moving onto his half hardness, it wouldn't take long now for him to pick up on the fact and turn the situation into something even uglier than it already was. God forbid, if it did happen, he could just see it all in his head and hear Daryl innocently telling his big brother and not realising what he was saying. Telling Merle who knew better and that spelt out danger.

But luckily Daryl was still unaware of the effects his squirming had on his father and he kept on grinding his buttocks onto his crotch, making Will hiss into his ear: "Damn it boy, stop movin'. Let Daddy jus' hold ya and say sorry. I know I did wrong, I ain't gonna hurt you.'

'You always say that!'

The words were a slap in the face for Will mainly because he knew they were true.

Even though Daryl was clearly angry and upset, he could hear that familiar, defeated, submissive tone to his voice that made Will ease up on his controlling, possessive grip and it became a more relaxed and tender one. He felt relief swamp him when he felt Daryl relax at last and thank God, finally still his movements.

'Sh..sh..Daddy ain't gonna hurt ya no more, promise. I'll never do it again...I'll change, stop drinkin'...' He spoke softly, careful to avoid any anger in the voice that Daryl was used to hearing more often than not these days.

Incredibly, his son leaned against him then, despite the pain it must have caused him to press his lacerated back against Will's shirt. "I'll clean you right up in a little while, son. Give you some painkillers, maybe something to calm ya down, too... Let's just stay like this for a while, huh? What do ya say to that?"

'It don't hurt much.' Daryl looked up at him but Will knew he was lying, the grimace of pain on his face when he moved told a very different story. He shifted then so that his side was lying against his father instead of his painful back.

Will looked down at Daryl proudly and pulled him tighter to his chest then as his fingers began to move slowly through his son's hair. After a short time of doing this, he could feel Daryl slump against him in exhaustion and his trembling slowly coming to a stop. 'I'm proud of ya.' He crooned to him as he started to rock him again like he nearly always did afterwards. Will would often brutally punish Daryl, then comfort him tenderly afterwards. 'Daddy's sorry. Can you ever forgive him?'

He smiled when he felt his son nod his head against his chest and knew then that he would forgive him – like he always did, even for this latest vicious whipping, even more brutal than usual.

His sweet boy would forgive him.

But would he forgive everything? Like what he dreamt of doing, the temptation that tormented him daily?

Will knew he wouldn't, because even sweet Daryl must have his limits. His fingers briefly stopped combing through Daryl's hair for a couple of seconds and he dug his fingernails into his palm instead so as not get lost in that dangerous train of thought again. That could be disastrous with Daryl still in his lap. With no chance of relief in sight, Will was deathly afraid that he might not be able to hide his desire for much longer. He swore to himself over and over, that he would never give in to that, never.

'Daddy ain't ever gonna hurt ya again, Daryl. I won't ever let it make me lose control. Promise.' He muttered almost inaudibly into his ear without meaning to.

Damn those keen hunter's ears that the boy had inherited because of course he caught what he'd said. Will's heart skipped a beat as his son looked up sharply at him with mingled confusion and surprise.

'Don't worry, son. It ain't important.' Will whispered and started stroking his hair again to reassure him. He didn't put two and two together - was too innocent for that.

Daryl ducked back down and cuddled into his father again. He closed his eyes at the soothing rocking motion and the pleasurable sensation of Will's fingers moving in his hair, soon, despite the pain he must be in, he seemed to be sleeping.

Will smiled because it seemed like he could just as easily inflict pain as well as he could take it all away, merely with his touch.

This made his thoughts spin as he tried to analyze the why's.

His need to comfort had a lot to do with the fact that Daryl was the youngest, his baby and he was always genuinely sorry afterwards.

That he had a soft spot for him was putting it mildly but the Dixon in him wouldn't let him show it other than after punishments taken too far.

Will shook his head as he looked down at the now fully relaxed boy in his arms. He'd never held Merle like this after he roughed him up. Not like he'd ever had any reason to, that boy was tough as nails, and probably would have taken it as an insult. But he doubted even Merle could handle the whipping Daryl got this day without making some noise at least. He'd never been quite as brutal with his first-born -not like he was with his youngest - something about the boy made him want to rip him apart.

Of course, forever present were the scars that served as a reminder of the God damned feelings that refused to leave him. That was why Daryl's back was littered with the worst scars that stood out the most, after all.

Whenever he saw them later on they would scream accusations at him. However, instead of stopping him, they only increased his rage.

The effects of this unpredictable behavior from his father became more and more apparent over time in the way Daryl was behaving.

Will had a feeling that when he held Daryl afterwards and rocked him, the boy thought it was almost worth all the pain. There was just something about the trusting way he eventually let himself go, to be comfortable enough to be around his father who was the one who made him hurt so badly in the first place. His ability to deal with the pain in a calm manner showed the boy wasn't weak like Will often taunted him of being when his anger took over and he scolded him for crying.

Listening to his father telling him how sorry he was had something to do with that too, he mused to himself, gentle words was something very rare in their house. Therefore, his son soaked up the praise and his pleas for forgiveness like a sponge did water, it never failed.

The way he promised that it would never happen again, though they both knew on some level that wasn't true. Despite knowing this, there was always that unmistakable spark of hope in those blue eyes – that maybe, this time, the promise was for real. Until he stopped believing him of course – Will was actually a bit surprised that hadn't happened already. But then Daryl always had had an optimistic, sweet and forgiving nature. He was different from his brother, probably there had never been a ixon born who was like him. Is that why Will had to fight the urge to ravish him, tear him apart?


	5. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thing Dad wants is for Merle to see what he did to Daryl because he knows how protective he is of his little brother. But how long can Daryl keep it a secret? More importantly, can Will keep his promise?
> 
> Notes: Reviews are love, let us have it!

For quite a long time after, Will fought all his impulses and didn't lay a finger on Daryl. Well, that wasn't quite true – the third night after he'd gone to town on him with his belt, he pulled him into his lap as he passed by his armchair. Will sensed that the kid was nervous, if he hadn't grabbed him like that, Daryl would have skirted around him for sure. Even though he knew all too well that acting skittish around Will was one of the many little things that could set him off. Even as he drew him to him, the father could sense him flinching inside but not showing it. Like a Dixon. Nevertheless, the tension in his muscles was clear as he froze in his father's lap.

'Sh...ain't gonna hurt ya. Said I'm sorry for what I did and I mean it. Ain't never gonna whip ya like that. Not again...Ever.'

'Dad?' He looked up at him with an unreadable expression, nevertheless, there was that trembling full lower lip of his that always gave him away, telling his father that he still didn't trust him. Will suppressed a snarl at that, when he realised that his apologies had all been in vain and that nothing had changed. He took a deep breath instead of scolding the boy , he couldn't really blame him for being afraid. Not after what he'd done. Besides, deep down, he knew the effects of years of tiptoeing around him in terror and constantly walking on egg-shells didn't just vanish just because Will decided to show more remorse than usual.

'Sh...' He brushed back his hair. 'Daddy loves ya, remember that. No matter what happens.'

Daryl leaned forward and hugged him then in reply, making the father's heart leap in his chest in relief. Will chuckled, he wasn't scared of him after all! He held his son tight and was about to give him an encouraging pat on the back for his resilience but luckily then, he remembered his recent injuries just in time as his right hand froze in midair, hovering over him.

'How's ya back, son?'

'It's gettin' better.' Daryl mumbled into his chest.

'Still, let me see.' He untangled his arms from him as gently as he could and motioned his son to stand up and turn around.

Daryl did as he was told but resisted at first when Will went to tug up his shirt by putting his hands on top of his father's to stop him.

'Let me see.' Will insisted with just a hint of the old menace in his voice. It worked and his son's hands flew off his and he obediently turned around on legs that were shaking ever so slightly.

'Sh...' Will winced at the signs of his own handiwork. He'd scar for life for sure but the angry looking red marks looked like they were healing well enough. They looked raw and painful but at least they weren't infected.

'I'm sorry. Daddy's sorry.' He whispered, unconsciously repeating what he'd said to him on the day it happened. 'Can ya ever forgive him?'

'Already told ya I did.' Daryl turned around to look at him. 'Besides, I did stay in the shower too long.' Incredibly, he was smiling as he spoke, leaving his father to marvel at him. Truly, he had to have the heart of an angel to forgive him this, Will thought to himself as he gently tugged his shirt back down, trying not to touch them. Despite the care he took, the unmistakable signs of pain fleeted across the boy's features before it brightened up again. Like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

Will pulled him closer to him until he was perched on his lap again.

'Do ya?' He repeated, patting him on his arm instead. 'Really forgive me, I mean...I went too far.'

'Of course, Dad. 'Sides, ya don't drink any more so ya won't do it again.'

Will nodded and smiled at Daryl's simple, child-like belief in him. It was all true. Sickened by his own behavior and the permanent damage he'd inflicted on his eleven- year-old, he'd given up the demon drink. For good.

It had worked – apart from the urges he got every now and then, surprisingly – the opposite to what you'd think, they were easier to fight without the booze. From now on, he was determined to be a good father and make up for all the bad times because Daryl was his favorite after all.

He was because Will couldn't ever recall treating Merle with kid gloves after a punishment. That tough son-of-a-bitch, unlike his little brother, had just got over whatever Will did to him and carried on like nothing had happened. Never acted like he was scared of him afterwards either.

Not so with Daryl, who nevertheless, he had to admit, did show spirit and a spark of defiance from time to time. But whenever he'd got sassy in the past, Will had always taken care to put him back down in his place again.

Merle, on the other hand, had always taken his beatings quietly and raised his fists instead at perceived threats.

With his older boy, a punishment usually ended with him storming out of the house, cursing at Will loud enough for the whole damn village to hear, leaving his father still fuming with anger. Shaking his fists at him in turn and calling threats after him.

Yet Will preferred Merle's sneers and smirks and smart-mouth comebacks that earned him even more pain to how Daryl acted afterwards. For instance, after each punishment, Daryl was particularly jumpy and would flinch at the tiniest hint of a raised hand or voice no matter who they belonged to. Merle would give him a strange look whenever he did that.

Dwelling on the differences between his two boys, Will's breath hitched and he held his son tighter to his chest. Moments like these, he couldn't believe how he could even dream of hurting him.

Come to think of it, something about the boy managed to snap Will out of many violent fits of rage, what with his tearful eyes and attempts to shield the vulnerable parts of him with his hands and begging for the beating to stop. Somehow, more often then not, his desperate pleas for mercy cut through the red veil of anger that had clouded over Will's vision and he would stop. Frozen in the moment, usually with his fists in the air and snarling down at him but it nearly always ended the same, he stopped. Then, he would slowly lower his hands to clench them into fists at his sides. When he came back to his senses sometimes he would find it in his heart to apologize, but usually he didn't. He knew it was wrong for him to give into his son's weakness like that, because by rights, he should punish him even harder when he made a sound. He would have done that with Merle but with that boy, he never needed to.

Will decided the time was as good as any to broach the subject now that he'd clearly won Daryl's love again.

'Daryl...Ya know Merle'll be back from wherever he's been in a few days? He called.'

His son on his lap nearly leapt off him with glee the news. 'Is he? When?' He gushed, barely able to hide his excitement, but Will knew better. He would no doubt have clapped for joy if Will hadn't been there, he was sure of it. He noticed that gleam of happiness that his eyes got at the mere mention of his brother that he never had for him, his father. With this realisation, rose a surge of jealousy within him. He was his father – Daryl should love him best! But he merely bit the insides of his cheeks to calm down. He'd promised to keep his temper in check. It wouldn't do to even let a simple curse slip his lips at this moment, not when he needed to extract a promise from the boy before his beloved big brother returned home. Will didn't want Daryl to keep it just out of fear, he wanted him to do it out of forgiveness and loyalty to him.

'Either the day after tomorrow, he said, or the day after that. But that ain't what I wanted to talk to you about, son.'

'It ain't?' The boy was clearly mystified. 'Then, what about, Dad?'

'I don't want ya to tell him about the whippin'. If you tell him, there'll be trouble.' Will pressed his point home, knowing that the last thing in the world that Daryl wanted was to be the cause of their fighting and make his brother leave again when he'd only just got back.

The boy's face fell and he looked worried. He knew what trouble meant. Merle wouldn't dare raise a hand to their father but there would be yelling and things thrown and no doubt broken, then his brother would storm out of the house. Leaving neither of them knowing when or if for sure he would return and his Dad might be mad enough to take it out on him. Start hitting and yelling at him again. . But back in the old days, it would have meant Merle getting punished too for questioning Will's child-raising methods or how he treated his precious baby brother. Strange when he'd had the same treatment growing up - it was what made them Dixons in the end, Will silently mused to himself. But Merle had quickly gotten too old for a real beating. Truth was, he rarely punished his eldest physically anymore. Still, it didn't take long for Will to figure out that he could use Daryl to get at him, – touch a single hair on his kid brother's head and he was all over his father – at least with his filthy mouth. But now he had decided that after that last particularly brutal whipping, even Daryl was off limits.

'Don't tell Merle what happened, will ya? He'll only get angry and you know what happens when he talks back at me.'

'Yeah…No, Dad. I wasn't gonna tell him anyway. Besides, it don't hurt no more.' But the smile he beamed up at his father was strained and didn't reach his eyes.

'Ya sure 'bout that?' Right then at that moment Will knew that some change for the better had occurred in him because the old him would've shot off a sadistic smile at his son, slapped his back with an open palm to prove that he knew that he was lying through his teeth. Will knew that deep cuts like those didn't stop hurting like that so soon after. Instead he smiled a genuine smile at seeing his boy acting like a brave little trooper and no doubt to spare his feelings. To not make him feel guiltier than he already did. He'd heard Daryl whimper in his bedroom more than once over the last couple of nights and when he'd gone in to check, he was lying fast asleep on his stomach. Clearly, his back still hurt too much for him to put any pressure on it. Also, Daryl wouldn't want to risk opening up the healing cuts again, he'd learnt his lesson from before when he'd been too eager for his wounds to heal. But not this time, he knew better.

'If ya tell Merle, there'll be trouble. Spoil things for all of us.'

'I won't!' He suddenly burst out, seeming to get angry at only the suggestion that he would tell Merle about what happened. He was fired up for sure and Will had another glimpse of the Dixon temper under his gentle exterior and felt relieved. 'Ain't a snitch!' He added with just as much bite.

'Good boy.' Will ran his fingers through his hair and stroked the back of his neck with one hand. The boy always calmed down whenever you touched him there and soon enough, his eyes were slowly closing as he relaxed completely in his arms.

'Good boy.' He whispered and planted a kiss to his temple. 'Just be careful not to let him see your back. That's means no swimmin' in the lake or the river.'

'But...' He started, putting so much outrage into that single word that it made Will fight the urge to smile. Go figure that his son would be pissed about being denied swimming in the lake during the hot summer months. Daryl was a real water-baby, always had been. Especially when it was his big brother inviting him.

Will had also thought that unusual– most big brothers weren't as keen as him to spend their precious free-time with an annoying kid brother tagging along and cramping their style. But not Merle.

'Not until they fade some.' He added, trying to make him feel better.

Daryl looked up at him innocently, his eyes as big as saucers. Meanwhile, that damn lower lip of his was trembling again as he struggled to hide his disappointment. Of course, he didn't want to rock the boat with his Dad who was genuinely trying to change and be a better father to him. A dad that didn't hit or scream at him anymore, at least.

Will gave him a gentle shake – not to scare him but just to let him know he meant business. He knew that those marks would never fade. Not from a lashing like that and he couldn't take the risk of Merle finding out.

'Ya hear?'

'Yes, Dad.' He mumbled meekly and Will went back to stroking that special place that soon had him nodding off. The kid could sleep anywhere, anytime. 'That's my special boy.' He crooned at him. 'Everythin's gonna be OK, ya'll see.'

…..

Merle came back a couple of days later than he'd said, giving Will time to work on Daryl some more because he didn't want his older son to accuse him of ill-treating his brother while he was gone. Why Merle made such a fuss when he had scars to match on his own back, Will didn't know. He couldn't complain after all, Merle wouldn't be the tough man he was today if their father hadn't whipped some sense into him.

Inevitably, the invitation to a dip in the nearest watering hole came from the big brother as soon as he dropped off his bags in his room and came back downstairs again. He was red-faced and sweaty after his journey, clearly looking for some relief from the heat. Daryl acted the part of being unwilling to go for a swim to perfection, saying that he wasn't in the mood. Merle was surprised and a bit annoyed but let it go. Yet it was a bit harder for Daryl to refuse the second time he asked a couple of days later.

They had just finished breakfast and it was a particularly scorching Georgian summer's day, even hotter than the day before. 'Wanna go swimming in the hole today, then? It's a fine day for it.' The big brother asked the younger.

Merle was already stripping off and their father looked at his youthful, perfectly toned and muscular body with envy. His fine blonde hair almost bleached white by the Georgian sun in contrast to his brother's dark locks. Will knew he looked pretty good for his age but he'd never see 40 again.

'I...I don't wanna. Don't feel like it today.' Daryl glanced nervously over at Will, who nodded approvingly.

'What? Ya said that yesterday too...Ya always love going for a dip. Are you sure ya ain't comin' down with somethin'?' Merle took a few determined steps towards him who appeared to be very interested in examining his nails all of a sudden. Merle touched his forehead with one hand and was about to yank off his shirt when Daryl, suddenly catching on to what big brother was about to do he looked up at him almost fearfully. They both knew that there was no stopping the older brother when he had set his mind on something. Alarmed, he stepped back 'No, don't...'

'Come on. I know ya want to go...' Merle tried again, his voice more coaxing this time and grabbed for his T-shirt when Daryl kept on moving away from him.

'Didn't you hear what he just said?' Their father bellowed suddenly and got in between them, shoving his oldest away. 'He don't want to, so leave him be! Why ya tryin' to force him to do somethin' he don't want to do?'

Now Merle looked a bit alarmed himself at their father's reaction and his face fell. He'd been looking forward to showing his little brother a new pool he'd just discovered and he was disappointed and couldn't hide it on his face.

'Fine.' He shrugged and pretended it was no big deal. It was the end of that until a few weeks later when the inevitable happened, no matter how much Will had tried to stop it.

….

Daryl was in the shower that night, soaping himself down. His back had completely healed and the scars had faded to thick white lines criss-crossing it. They hadn't faded in the least, not like his father said they would but he stopped himself dwelling on them since there was nothing he could to about it, really. He thought they were a small price to pay when it seemed like Dad had really stopped drinking and barely so much as raised his voice to him these days.

To put it briefly, things had got a whole lot better in the Dixon household.

As he washed, he started singing the song his Mama taught him. Not that he could remember her clearly but it made him feel close to her. His whole body was covered in white foam that he was sponging off - his family knew how crazy he was about shower gels and smelly soap and they'd tease him about this faggish behavior. He'd just shrug it off.

It had been six weeks since Merle had come home and the best part of summer swimming would soon be over. Soon, the water in he pools and lakes would be growing cold but Daryl had refused every time. Not even Merle calling him a pussy who was scared of water managed to make any difference.

It was late when his brother came home, drunk as a skunk after a night out boozing. He ran up the stairs and tried to turn the bathroom handle. Shook it in frustration when he realised it was locked.

'Who's in there? I need to take a piss!'

'Me. I'll be out in a minute.' Daryl answered but that wasn't soon enough for his desperate brother.

'Get out now! Otherwise I'm gonna piss all over the carpet!'

'Ain't my problem.' Daryl retorted, chuckling to himself at the image he had of his brother waiting outside, legs crossed like a girl, squeezing them together to try to take the pressure off his over-strained bladder.

'Right, that does it! I'm comin' in, ya little shit!'

Now Daryl answered in full panic mode. He didn't know where their Dad was, he'd heard him go out just before he locked the door to the bathroom, too eager to make full use of his freedom to take a nice, long, hot shower to wait for the outer door to slam shut. Even though it seemed like their father had changed for good, there was something that Daryl didn't quite trust about this new transformation and he didn't want to set him off by staying too long in the shower. After all, that's why he'd got whipped in the first place.

'I'm in the shower, it'll take a minute.'

'I don't have a minute. Open up!'

'Said I'm in the fucking shower!'

'I don't give a shit! I'm comin' in!'

'No, Merle, ya can't!' Now he felt really scared. Scared of Merle? His big brother who'd never really hurt him before? But he sounded pissed. Drunk and maybe something else...Drugs could make him not realise what he was doing...More than drunk and high, he sounded crazy as he tried to kick the door in.

Was Merle out of it enough to seriously hurt him? Like Dad used to?

'Stop, don't break the door! I'm gettin' out to unlock it, OK?' He hurriedly turned off the shower and climbed out, cursing at being disturbed yet again.

'Jus' give me a minute!' He called when he heard the door handle still rattling but Merle didn't answer. Just redoubled his efforts to get in, this time by using his shoulder. Daryl furrowed his brows in irritation because he couldn't believe why his brother didn't just go and do it outside? He never had a problem doing that that before. Now he was acting crazy.

'Fuckin' stop it, Merle!' He raised his voice slightly, trying to sound more brave than he actually felt. He scanned the room with his eyes at the same time, searching for a big enough towel to wrap himself up in but there wasn't one in sight. He cursed himself for not checking before he got in the shower...there was just that same tiny white towel that was good for covering up nothing that he'd worn when Dad had whipped him. He couldn't help but to shudder at the memory while he continued to yell at his brother to stop breaking down the door but Merle never answered or ceased his efforts to get in.

It wasn't about him being shy around Merle, it wasn't a big deal, why would it be? They were brothers. When they went swimming, they usually just kicked off everything and didn't care. But now he didn't want to be exposed in front of him but most of all, he didn't want him to see his back and what Dad had done to him.

Daryl soon gave up trying to reason with his brother, clearly Merle wasn't listening, so he leaned against the wall to shield his back from view from the get-go. Merle was nearly there now, judging by the creaking of the door and its shuddering, where cracks were starting to appear around the frame. Dad was going to kill Merle for it and him too probably for locking it like that.

Daryl winced at a particularly hard shove and renewed his efforts in vain: 'Merle!' He yelled one last time, but he doubted his brother heard him through all the noise he was making. Finally, the sturdy old timber door gave way and was left hanging half off its hinges and his brother was there in front of him, red in the face and looking ready to breathe fire.

Or murder him.


	6. Sometimes there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos!
> 
> Notes: Reviews are love – let us have it!

Choosing the lesser of two evils, Daryl wrapped the tiny white towel around his waist, fastened it with a knot while keeping his back against the wall just like before.

A wall – some protection, he thought sourly. But it was all he had against his older and bigger brother who had clearly lost his mind.

'What the fuck ya gone and done that for, Merle? He's gonna kill ya for that!' He lashed out, focusing on keeping his voice steady. Maybe if he showed that he wasn't scared, Merle would come to his senses and be the dopey older brother he was used to dealing with.

Merle merely shrugged his shoulders and snickered. It was like breaking the bathroom door and the consequences that was to follow when dealing with their father meant nothing to him. He was obviously high as a kite, Daryl didn’t need to take another look at his brother’s pupils to realize this. He’d been drinking too, he stank like a brewery. 

Daryl twisted his hands nervously, earning himself a funny look. If he didn’t know any better, he thought to himself, Merle was gazing at him in something akin to awe like he’d seen him properly for the very first time. To his dismay, he’d apparently forgotten all about his bursting bladder too, after yelling the house down about it.

'Don't ya want to...?'

Merle cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand that almost caught him off guard before he rapidly strode over to him in mere seconds to make a grab for him. Luckily, the booze and whatever else he'd taken had affected his co-ordination and Daryl dodged him easily, even when he renewed his clumsy efforts to seize him.

'Wh...What ya want Merle?' He stuttered as his back was up against the wall again. 'Thought ya wanted to use the bathroom?' He continued, trying to distract him but he didn't like the response he got when Merle shot off a smile he didn’t recognize right before he growled at him , baring his teeth like an old street dog.

Daryl could see that Merle's eyes were still burning with rage lurking underneath, just waiting to leap out at anyone who happened to be in his way and closest at hand. Just like he was now. In that moment for the first time in his life Daryl felt genuinely afraid of his big brother. He knew that he couldn't be saving up all that anger just for their dad. Sure, he had already taken out some of it on the door but he wasn't fully himself and Daryl could see that his brother was far from finished. He feared that he would be the next thing that received the brunt of all his rage. But he wasn't an object – he was a warm flesh and blood person who could feel pain. Dad had taught him that.

At a loss at what to do, Daryl cowered against the wall and desperately looked for an escape route. The window was too high, besides, he'd never get there without being yanked back by his enraged brother, the broken door was a no-go too, the results would be the same. Merle was standing in the way, with his arms crossed over his chest and staring at him like ….well, he didn't have words for that look. But it freaked him out whatever it was.

The closest he could come to describing it was that Merle resembled a powerful lion, lazily toying with his prey, before he pounced on it and made the final kill. He'd never looked at him like that before – he put it down to whatever shit he'd been taking. Not to forget about what he’d been drinking.  


Daryl nervously tried to steel himself for the blows that he was sure were about to rain down on him, at the same time cursing himself for not learning from his mistakes. Staying in the shower too long was what had got him into trouble last time...why did he keep doing stupid shit to provoke the both of them like that for?

When he eventually snapped out of the thoughts, he found himself with his nose inches away from Merle's chest and he instinctively pushed at it to get some distance between them. : 'No...Don't!' He cried and tried to shove him away again. But Merle didn't budge, didn't react. He probably didn't even feel it, Daryl thought bitterly. After a second's hesitation, Merle kept on advancing and he didn't know why he had even bothered, he was literally backed into a corner with no avenue of escape now.  


'Merle, please...'

He didn't answer of course, only smirked at him in that imperious way of his. Daryl flinched when he reached for him but he only yanked him away from the safety of the wall to hold him in a tight grip by the top of one arm.

'Please, Merle, don't hurt me.' Daryl pleaded shamelessly now, from dad he could handle a whopping but not from his big brother. 'I was only havin' a shower...' He hung his head, hoping this would make his brother snap out of it. ‘I was going to open the door for ya, but you didn’t listen… And when you went at it like you did I was…I was scared it was too late and that you’d hurt me for not opening it fast enough… I didn’t mean to…’ He gabbled, his words pouring out in a torrent of alarm.

Merle’s gaze along with his voice grew soft then while he listened to his brother who was practicaly stumbling over his words to get them out fast enough. It finally dawned on him that he was scaring his little brother. No matter how high he was from the drugs, the fear on Daryl's face and the body trembling with fear under his hand was in no way funny to him. The joke was clearly over so he loosened his grip, but he still didn't let him go.  


'I ain't gonna hurt ya. Never hurt you, baby brother. Ya gotta know that.' He crooned at him and that weird look he had been sporting disappeared from his face.

Daryl let out a sigh of relief when his big brother went back to -well-...looking just like his big brother again. This drew a soft chuckle from Merle who ruffled his hair and finally released him. 'I was jus' messin' with ya. Now, get outta here 'cos I really do need to take a piss.'

'But what about the door?' He glanced nervously towards the stairs. He couldn't believe that his brother could be so casual about it. 'Dad'll be back soon...'

'Don't you worry about that. I'll get it fixed. Now, shoo.' 

Merle waved him away and it was clear that he was waiting for him to leave, but Daryl found himself unable to move as if his feet were nailed to the floor. He knew he'd have to move some time because Merle was clearly impatient for him to get out and leave him in peace. If he didn't go, his teasing mood would soon turn to one of annoyance and then he might turn back into that scary big brother who acted crazy. Dreading it but knowing that he had no choice, Daryl tried to stiffle a sigh of resignation because he knew that Merle would see.

But what if he walked out backwards? Maybe his brother would think he was just carrying on joking around, trying to be funny? It might make him laugh but more likely it would make him suspicious, bursting bladder or no.

Desperate enough to try anything to hide his and Dad's secret from Merle, a sudden fit of dizziness from his over-strained nerves almost made him faint before he took a hesitant first step backwards. But he shook his head to clear it because he'd promised his dad to keep his mouth shut and not let Merle see right before he'd called him a 'good boy'. That ultimate bit of praise that he'd rarely got from him meant he wasn't going to destroy everything by acting like a pussy. So Daryl took a few more steps casually, like he did this every day. Praying that his brother would see the funny side of it and just let him go.

But Merle didn't even laugh. Instead, he raised his eyebrows in surprise and before Daryl could even think about running out, he'd already crossed the short distance between them.  
He grabbed his younger sibling again and shook him. 'Why ya walkin' outta here like that?'

'Let go of me! Thought it would be funny, is all!'

'What's the matter, don't tell me ya shy, baby brother?' Chuckling now, he spun Daryl around instead, like they were dancing partners at a ball in the old days. 'Ain't like ya naked or nothin'.'

'Merle....Don't!' He protested but Merle was having too much fun now, his bladder forgotten again.

It wasn’t long before playtime was over and Merle's chuckles turned to a sharp gasp of dismay when he noticed after he twirled him around so that his back was to him.

'Stop it, Merle!' Daryl squirmed, knowing full well what Merle's eyes were fixated on.

'Holy fuck...' He breathed out the word shakily, obviously having trouble keeping his emotions in check. He knew where every scar on Daryl's body was, had memorized each and every cigarette burn, cut from the knife and other marks their father had put on him over the years. His baby brother's body was like a map in his memory that he used for comparison every time he checked him over for new signs of abuse. Especially when he'd been gone awhile. That was the most dangerous time for Daryl because their Dad thought he was safe to do whatever he wanted with him and that Merle would be none the wiser.

He sighed as he once again went over what his options were. He simply couldn't take Daryl with him...The jobs were dangerous and bad enough without having a whiny kid brother in tow. When things were at their worst, he barely got himself out alive, his chances were reduced to almost zero to none if he had to protect Daryl as well.  


He hissed as his eyes were drawn like iron to magnets towards the old familiar lingering marks on his back that resembled coils of rope. He saw that there were definitely more of those marring his eleven-year old brother's body. Daryl's smooth baby- skin would be perfect if it wasn't for them. That thought made him growl deep in his throat and gave him the urge to smash something, but he immediately regretted his reaction when he felt Daryl stiffen under his hands. The boy had even stopped struggling to get free, knowing that it was no use. Not now that Merle knew his secret.  


'Sh...sorry. Ain't you I'm mad at.' He hushed him.

By the looks of the raised scar-tissue, it had formed not that long ago. A few weeks maybe... Merle closed his eyes and forced himself to take a calming deep breath as it dawned on him that this all had happened while he was out on his last job. Out earning money to pay the bills and keep their piece-of-shit useless father in booze and smokes because if he didn't have money for those, he was more likely to take out his frustration on his little brother while he was absent.

He tried to suppress his rage at this new revelation so that he wouldn't yell at his brother and scare him even more. After all, it wasn't his fault and it wasn't Daryl that he should be getting angry at. Yet it wasn't easy controlling his emotions because like so many times before the anger was directed at himself too. Because he'd failed to protect Daryl against their sick bastard of a father yet again.

He was a lousy big brother. Couldn't even do that one thing right.  
'What did he do?' He asked, deliberately keeping his voice calmer than he actually felt. Merle knew he'd get the truth out of him easier that way.

'N...Nothin'...' Daryl tried to squirm out of his grip again but Merle growled and shook him in warning to keep still.  
'When did the bastard to this? He use his fuckin' belt on ya again?' His voice rose in his fury, despite his best efforts to the contrary. 'I told that coward if he lays one finger on ya while I'm gone, I'll fuckin' end him!'

Daryl whimpered and leaned away, not knowing what else to do to calm his brother down he tried for a weak: 'Stop it, Merle. I deserved it...I...I used up all the water in the shower!' He blurted out lamely, looking down at the ground.

Merle snorted in response and shook his head. 'Ya think that's a good enough reason for this?!' His eyes ranged over his little brother's back again as they took in every new raised lump of tissue and blemish. It hurt him to look at the damage that he'd failed to prevent and this was Merle's way of punishing himself, taking each scar in, inch by inch. He spun his brother around then, tilting his chin up with one hand. 'Ain't nothin' ya could have done that makes this OK!'

'What good does it do goin' over it again?' Daryl shrugged Merle off of him, wanting to get out of there more now than ever that his secret was out. The damage was done and the last thing he wanted was to make their dad disappointed in him by thinking that he had told Merle after all. That he had gone whining to him like a little pussy he so often accused him of being, Merle too when he was angry with him. Worse, after this, Daryl knew that he would go back to being their father's punching bag in a blink of an eye. Their truce would come to an end after this for sure and the good weeks would be nothing but a fond but dim memory.

Merle didn't understand any of this and would only laugh scornfully if Daryl tried to explain how things had changed between him and their father. That Dad didn't hurt him anymore...he'd never believe that in a million years. He would think Daryl was just lying to protect him and avoid more yelling and arguing.

Daryl had time to only get a few steps ahead before his brother grabbed him yet again, pinning him in place and getting all in his face, fed up with him trying to get away. They were practically nose to nose and Daryl tried to get him to back off, figuring that their dad hadn’t gone far and was sure to be back any minute. He had probably only gone to the local store to buy smokes. If Daryl was lucky he'd found one of his buddies on the way to chat with before coming home.

But he knew that he'd be back soon and seeing them in the bathroom, Daryl's back on display would lead their father to jump to the conclusion that he'd shown Merle deliberately and told him about the whipping. That he had betrayed him. All hell would break loose then. First, it would be about the broken bathroom door and then Merle would scream at him for hurting his baby brother again.  


'Let go of me!'

Merle complied with a sigh when he recognised the signs that Daryl was about to go in full panic mode and he held him put with his glaring eyes rather than his hands.  
‘Ya better start talkin', little brother. That’s a real nasty whippin’ ya got there.’

'So? He did it to you too.' Daryl smirked and leaned back casually against the wall, pretending more indifference than he actually felt.

'Yeah, but you got a hell of a lot more scars on ya than I ever had. Especially at your age. How many lashes did he give ya this time? Fifty?' Merle was exaggerating but the rage on his face was clear.

'Weren't that many. Think I'd be in a hospital if it was, don't you?' Even he couldn't talk his way out of that one if I was to show up there lookin' like that.' The younger boy snapped back and rolled his eyes. 'Besides, it was ages ago and he ain't even hit me since. He promised he'd never do it ever again!'

'Ain't even hit ya?' Merle whispered in disbelief as he shook his head. 'Better fuckin' not have!' His eyes as they narrowed and understanding finally dawned in them. It took Merle time to get there but he usually did in the end. 'That why ya didn't want to go swimmin'?' He demanded.  
He knew the answer as soon as Daryl looked away and hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself smaller like he wanted to disappear.  
'Answer me!' He snapped with big brother authority that could never be resisted.

Daryl finally nodded knowing his tactic of keeping silent wouldn't work. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ He said in a broken voice that made the older brother wince.

'Fuck him.' Merle shook his head and gave Daryl a little shove. 'Get outta here while I take a piss. I need to think about what we're gonna do.'

'But Merle, he's really sorry 'bout it. He's changed for real!'

Merle glowered and crossed his arms over his chest, looking unconvinced.

'Don't say nothin' to him 'bout it, please.'

'Get outta here unless ya wanna watch.' He made a pantomime leer at him before he made a ridiculous attempt to close the door in his face which of course he couldn’t since it was broken and hanging off its hinges. 'Damn whorin' door!' He cursed and kicked at it. Then he noticed that Daryl hadn't moved, was just peering at him in anxiety and looking over his shoulder for signs of their old man coming back. Normally his fight with the broken door would have had his brother dissolve in laughter, but not this time. Merle sighed and promised himself that he would take care of his little brother and make him feel better. Right after he was done getting rid of the after- effects of a whole night's drinking.

'I said 'Do ya mind?'' . He jerked his head meaningfully towards the hallway.  
Daryl sighed and left but didn't go far.  
'Fuuuck...' He heard his older brother groan with relief as he let go with a noisy heavy stream of urine. Like a race-horse. It did seem like a miracle to him that he'd managed to hold on so long, only his little brother in trouble could have distracted him from it.

Meanwhile, Daryl hoovered outside of the bathroom, nervously kicking at the wall, waiting impatiently for his brother to finish up already. He felt sick and his stomach was full of dread, felt heavy like it was full of lead. He knew he had to convince Merle to keep quiet and then things could carry on being good. Make him see that Dad was nice to him now, that he didn't punish him like he used to.

Merle seemed to take ages to empty his bladder to Daryl, probably because he was waiting for the front door to open and their father to appear. When he couldn’t stand the silence anymore he mumbled out loud, he knew that his brother, always alert when it came to him, would hear:  
'Merle...leave it. He's gonna go mad about the door as it is.'

'Ya still there?'

Daryl sighed in relief as he finally heard him stop, flush the handle and zip up his flies. In no time he was out in the hall again trying to stand upright, using the wall as support and wondering why you always felt so much more drunker once you got back home. 

But he soon focused his attention on the matters at hand when he spied the uneasy form of his little brother, clearly listening out for their old man’s return strung and taunt as a harp's string. ‘Hey, relax. I’m here now. Won’t let him get to ya.’

'I'm scared, Merle. He's gonna kill both of us.' His lower lip was quivering, like it always did. Giving his fear away but Merle didn't comment on it.

'He ain't gonna do nothin'. Cos we're leavin'. Now.'

Daryl’s mouth grew slack in surprise at his brother’s words. 'Wha...What?' We can't! I told ya he doesn't hurt me like that no more!'

'Yeah, but he did and that’s enough for me. Pack a few things then we're goin'.'

'But we ain't got nowhere to stay!'  
He smirked. 'We can stay at one of my girl's. They won't mind.'

That suggestion made Daryl inwardly groan, because that could be any number of the skanks Merle bedded. His brother was anything but picky when it came to the opposite sex.

But it was too late because just then, announcing their dad’s arrival was the sound of the front door being opened right before closing with a loud slam.

The two boys exchanged nervous glances. Merle noticed that his brother was looking more apprehensive than ever and as if to confirm what he was thinking, right then one of Daryl's small hands snaked out to clutch at his shirt. Merle could see it shaking and didn't have the heart right then to do what he usually did. Order him to man up before their Dad saw it. The image of his scarred up back was burnt into his memory however, and that was more than enough for him to give the kid some slack.

'Don't worry, I'll handle it.' Daryl's hand stayed right where it was while he ruffled his hair fondly. 'Don't ya worry one bit there, little brother.' Daryl rewarded him a brave little smile that brightened up the whole of his narrow face.

To himself, Merle muttered, not intending Daryl to hear he mumbled, 'Big brother's home. Everything's gonna be alright now.'  
Daryl was too busy eavesdropping to every move their father made downstairs to take notice of his big brother's gloomy mood. He flinched when he heard the heavy keychain hit the kitchen counter, and did it again when he heard the distinct sound of a beer being popped open.

'Come on. Up to your room, get dressed and pack some stuff. We'll leave once the old man is out.' But whatever Merle had taken had started to wear off and he was now thinking more clearly about the consequences of his actions, such as those for breaking down the stupid bathroom door. Somebody would have to pay for a new one even if Merle fixed it himself, Daryl was right, Dad was going to go batshit-crazy. 

Now it was Merle's turn to feel worried when he entered his own room to do as he told Daryl to do. Gone was the drunken glaze in his eyes, almost as if he knew that he needed to sober up rapidly to be there for Daryl if things were to turn ugly with Dad which they no doubt would. Because he wasn't going to let him abuse his little brother again next time he was gone, not this time.

Merle grabbed some clothes and other stuff he couldn't do without for a few days and shoved them deep down in his black and white sports-bag. Once he was done, he took a deep breath and reminded himself that he had his own reasons to be angry and not just over a stupid door which could be replaced in any case. It was just a thing. But his 11-year old baby brother had been scarred-up for life thanks to that bastard getting too carried away with his belt. Thinking about the fresh scars on Daryl's back made him feel braver and gave him resolve to confront the coward if it came to that.

It was like he'd seen his back for the first time all over again tonight. The scars from before were not that noticeable – your eyes could slide over them if you weren't looking closely. But now anyone who saw his back would know what had happened to him. The kind of family he came from, his shame. He knew that Daryl was too young to understand but later he would, when he had to think twice every time he took his shirt off. When it was hot and he was working outside, hell, even when he went for a swim.

When he was grown and eventually went to bed with a woman and he had to explain them to her.

They were always going to be a part of him.


	7. His Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, what's Dad going to do? Can they get away in time? Or maybe he'll do nothing except yell at them but can a leopard really change its spots?
> 
> Thanks so much to everybody for the kudos!
> 
> Comments and kudos are love, let us have it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a monster of a chapter, but we thought it best not to split it. Enjoy while we're working on the next one!

But they were too late. Now they could hear their father's heavy slow steps coming up the stairs and Merle snaked his arm instinctively around his little brother's shoulders. Meanwhile, Daryl tried his best to relax – his muscles were tense again only after a few minutes' respite. 

Merle entered fighting-mode mentally and prepared for a showdown but he was left dumbstruck when his father only scoffed instead of scolding them when he reached the top of the stairs mere feet away. 

He looked like he'd been mellowed out by a drink or two down at Marty's on the way home and that's why he'd been gone so long. Luckily for them, he was merry so far but then again, he hadn't seen the door yet.

"And what are my two boys doin'? Why ain't you in bed, son?" He looked curiously at his younger boy.

Daryl let out the faintest little gasp of air to voice his distress at being singled out from the get go. The fact that it was a harmless question asked mildly didn't matter, he'd always hated being the centre of attention. Luckily only Merle heard him, causing him tighten his grip around his little brother.  
Their dad was in a good mood but they both knew that wasn't going to last long and they were on tenterhooks until the bubble burst. Merle cursed himself for getting high and not getting him and Daryl out of there sooner. If only they had just a couple of more minutes...

Their hearts skipped a beat especially when they apprehensively witnessed the corners of their father's mouth slowly turning downwards as his eyes gradually focused on the door behind his two sons. His mouth set in a grim line and there was a silence so thick that you wouldn't have any trouble hearing a cotton ball hit the floor. It was only seconds long but it seemed to last an eternity to them.

"The door. Explain. Now." Their father's cold tone didn't even fail to give even the older brother a shiver down his spine. At the same time Merle felt Daryl's hand renew its shaking on him. "Why, pray tell, is the bathroom door hanging off its hinges?"

Merle quickly recovered and typically blurted out what first came to mind whenever he felt backed into a corner. No matter how stupid or unbelievable.  
"It locked itself and I couldn't open it." He only had protecting Daryl on his mind and keep him out of it, quite an achievement for him to think straight enough to do this in his addled head.

Will wasn't quite as impressed though and he rewarded him by slapping him across the face. Hard. Merle just answered with an indifferent shrug.

'I don't believe ya. Do you really think I'd fall for "it locked itself?" Exactly how stupid do ya think I am?'

'Ain't weird for an old door to start playin' up!'

"And your first thought was to break it? Stupid boy, couldn't you just wait for me to come home and sort somethin' out?"

"Yeah but who knows when ya would have, huh? For all we know you could've pulled an all-nighter and we couldn't wait that long! Wouldn't be the first God damn time!"

"Ya better stop ya sassin' me, boy. Ya hear me? Otherwise I'll do more than jus' slap ya. You ain't too old for a good whippin'.'

Merle smiled and kept doing what he always did. Protecting Daryl as best he could. It was the least thing he could do for all the times he failed to be there for him lately - the flogging that had scarred him for life was always at the forefront of his mind. Better then for Merle to receive whatever their bastard of a father was planning on dishing out rather than Daryl. 

 

All his efforts were all to no avail though as Will's eyes looked down at his youngest. "And I guess you couldn't find anything to help him open the door before he smashed it off its hinges?"

"Leave him out of it. He ain't got nothin' to do with it. 'Twas all me.'

"I beg to differ. Who was on the other end of that door? And don't you lie to me, boy!'

"Already told you, it locked itself while I was inside."

"Mm, then why is your little brother's hair wet then?'

How quickly their father got to the truth caught Merle off guard, but he thought it best not to deny it and add 'lying to his face' to his grudge-list. "He just had a shower, for fuck's sake.' 

"Before or after the door broke itself?" Will's tone turned icily sarcastic.

"What difference does that make?" 

"Answer the question!' He barked. 

"After." Merle thought it best to lie at this point after all. 

"So just now, then?" 

"Yeah! So? What's the big deal?" Merle burst out, losing his cool composure at this relentless interrogation. Will looked far too pleased and this worried him because surely he knew something that they didn't or he'd caught them out somehow. 

"Where's the steam and the wet floor? He loves standing under there for hours, using up all the hot water and costing me money!'

"Um..." Now Merle really was speechless and he hated that fact because it meant he was out of options of protecting Daryl with his lies that he thought were so clever. Now he realised that they weren't and he still couldn't outwit their father. He was still smarter, stronger and bigger than them and it felt like he always would be.

But Will wasn't looking at him, he was glaring at Daryl instead who shrank even further behind his brother. Merle reached behind him to stroke his arm reassuringly without even looking while Daryl took a deep, shuddery breath. 

Will narrowed his eyes at this display of affection. He'd have to separate them...Little Daryl was never going to man up with a big brother like that always protecting him, not allowing Will to discipline him properly. No wonder he acted the way he did at times. Why was Merle touching him like that when he should be helping him toughen the boy up? Beat some sense into him? 

Standing beside his brother, Daryl bit his bottom-lip thinking on how best to turn this situation around. 

'Well?' 

Now he was addressing Daryl directly and he was stumped on how to answer. Nothing he could say would get them both out of trouble but maybe he could blame himself... tell the truth and admit that he took too long in the shower again and Merle wanted to use the pisser because he'd been out drinking out all night? So he broke the door down because he couldn’t get in there fast enough? 

Or he could carry on insisting that the lock broke and he panicked, so Merle did what he had to do to get him out of there. Even that story would end up with him being punished twice for using the shower while their father was out and for being a pussy and getting scared when he realised he was locked in. Merle would still get it in the neck for what he did for him. Either way, however he tried to spin it, they were both neck-high deep in shit. "Well, I was in the shower when the door got stuck." He finally confessed.

'Finally, the truth.' Their father muttered darkly.

'Sh...Don't say no more.' Merle told him. 'Let me do the speakin', baby brother.' 

'No, ya let your brother speak, Merle. If you know what’s best for ya...And then what?' When there was no answer, he sighed as he waited for one. 'What's the matter, son? Cat got your tongue?" '

"Shut up Dad, jus' give him a minute!" 

Daryl wasn't sure if it was the fact that Will let that disrespect from Merle slide that fooled them into thinking that he wasn't really that angry. Or that he actually gave him time to answer.  
'Merle wanted to take a piss and I... I got out to open the door and let him in and..' 

'And you couldn't open it?'

'No...Lock jammed or somethin'.'

'This must have all taken a good while since there’s no trace of the shower you took except for that ya hair's wet. You two had a nice, cosy chat once the door crashed down, that it?' He glowered at the smaller boy, his meaning clear. 

Daryl tensed up at what that implied. His father must think he spilled the beans to his big brother…  
For a moment he completely lost track of what he was about to say and stayed silent for longer than Will had the patience for. He jumped nearly a mile up in the air when his father's palm struck the wall near him with a loud slap.

"And...and when I tried to open the door I couldn't. So...Merle kicked it in for me." 

'He did, did he? Why'd ya lock it in the first place? Ain't no-one here except for ya father and your brother.'

'I...I...' Daryl spluttered, not even knowing what he was going to say.

'Nah...' His father crooned knowingly at him with a triumphant smirk twisting his lips. 'Ya were lookin' forward to havin’ one of those famous shower marathons of yours, I bet...'Cos you knew I was out, no doubt and didn't want to be disturbed if me or Merle showed up earlier than you'd like.' Now Will's voice was rising in anger.

Daryl took a step back in alarm. 'I...I weren't in there long. I swear!'

Will snarled and made a grab for him but he was partly blocked by Merle and he gave up. 'Your idea of a long time ain't the same as mine, boy! And stop hidin' behind ya brother. Ya know how much that pisses me off!'

'I'm sorry, dad...' Daryl was really terrified now and looked up at his brother in appeal. 

'Leave him alone.' Merle shoved his brother further behind him to better shield him, he knew that answering back to their father was one of the things that got him really mad. 'So what if he did stay in there a little longer? Ain't a crime. Besides, I told ya it was all my fault. I was the one who broke the door.'

'So, you broke the lock and ya big brother broke the door, tryin' to get to ya, that about right?'

'Yeah...' Daryl's voice was small.

'Why couldn't ya wait until I got back?'

'I panicked, there was no way out and I felt like I couldn't breathe...'

Will snorted in disbelief. He knew he couldn't get round his eldest to get at him, though. His 16 year old was almost Will's height – was becoming a man. He wasn't quite as broad though but he was filling out, and when his mind was set on keeping them apart, there was usually nothing Will could do about it unless he planned to knock Merle unconscious. However, he could punish them both at the same time if he played his cards right – and his scheme was all coming together in the oldest Dixon's head as he pretended to back off.

‘I’m right, ain't I?' He sighed in apparent resignation.

"Yeah. We're sorry, Dad." Merle chimed in, clearly glad that this wasn’t going to end in bloodshed this time. It was just a door, after all. 

Will noticed Merle slightly relax at his sudden change of mood and smiled secretly to himself because the boy was wrong, oh...so wrong.  
He had a hard time keeping the gleeful smile off his face as he looked at his sons back and forth before he added: "Oh well... That stupid old door needed changing anyway. I admit I wanted to save money – that's why I never took care of it. But now ya gone and done ripped it almost out of the wall...half the job done already. But you gonna pay for the new one, ya hear me, Merle?'

"What? Yeah - sure.' He agreed immediately, distracted but relieved that this was all it came down to. 'Ya ain't mad?" Yet Merle's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief as he tried to scrutinise their Dad's poker-faced expression. But their Dad sounded like he meant it to their ears.

"Nah, shit happens. It's really late, ya better get your asses back to bed, both of you. Don't know what you're doin' up at this hour..."

Both brothers were too dumbstruck to think any more of it and only too happy to scramble to their bedrooms to notice the sadistic glint sparkling to life in Will's eyes and when he turned to walk down the stairs, he did so with a bright smile that didn't reach them.

"That wasn't so bad, huh, little bro?" Merle said to Daryl on the landing before they parted ways.

"Nah... I told ya he's changed."

"You don't really believe that though."

"Yeah, I do! Ya should too!'

"Then why were ya hidin' like that behind me?'

"Old habits die hard, I guess."

Merle's chest ached on hearing his little brother speak like that. Bitter words that were not fit leaving a mere 11 year old kid's mouth, but he was right nonetheless. Merle shoo'd him to bed, told him to hide his bag ready under the bed so their dad wouldn't see what they planned to do, just in case he was wrong. He did the same when he got to his room and shut the door behind him.

He fell asleep almost immediately and therefore failed to hear the lock turn and click into place. He would have been surprised and not a little alarmed if he had, he'd lost that key years ago and didn't know there was a spare. He would have been even more disturbed if he'd known that his father had been saving it all that time just for something like this.  
When he first opened his eyes and slowly came to out of dreamland, his ears slowly registered the distinct sound of Daryl desperately crying out for him. At first he was wondering if he was still asleep and in the throes of a nightmare. But it didn’t take long when he heard his Dad's voice booming over his brother's, ordering him to keep his mouth shut, to strip him rudely of that illusion.  
Just like that, he was wide awake again and he rolled out of bed immediately. 

Their dad had just played them both. He'd wanted to believe Daryl so much that he’d changed for the better, but part of him always knew that would never happen. That it was impossible.  
'I'm comin', Daryl!' He yelled back although his brother's cries for help had ceased and painful as they were to listen to, this development worried him more.  
He was stunned when he tried to open the locked doorand it wouldn't budge. He swore and cursed in confusion. 'What the fuck...?'  


He hissed at feeling the familiar squeeze of panic gripping his heart and he attacked the door in much the same way he'd done the bathroom door. The one that had caused all the damn trouble in the first place but then again, that one had been worn out. This one was made of oak and strong, he feared that it wouldn't budge and he wouldn't get out of there fast enough to spare Daryl more pain than he'd already been subjected to. He forced himself to block out his visions of what the bastard was doing to him right that moment while he was trapped, unable to stop it in his own room. 

‘You promised me, you little shit! Promised you wouldn’t tell!’ Dad’s voice quivered with anger right before there was a loud thump. 

'Stop!' Merle screamed even as he stupidly tried to twist the door-handle again and again. He could hear that he delivered every word he'd snarled with an accompanied blow but no sounds from Daryl except him yelling back: ‘Dad, I didn’t! I didn't want him to see my back – I tried to cover it up but it was too late!’

‘I don’t believe ya! Ya showed him, didn't ya? Ya go whinin' to him like a little pussy, that it?'

'NO!' Now Daryl sounded angry, despite everything, making Merle smile with pride even in his fear for him.

'Why ya still lyin' to me?’ Merle’s hand subconsciously went to his own cheek as his brother was backhanded across his face, the undeniable echo told Merle just how hard that slap had been.

‘I’m not lyin’ dad, you’re not listening!’ The open hand had clearly turned into a fist, shortly followed by Daryl tumbling into something.

'Stop Dad! It's true! He tried to hide his back from me, but I made him show me!’. Merle shouted.

As usual their father couldn't hear in his fury or more likely, was ignoring him. Either way, there was no answer but at least there seemed to be a pause between blows.

‘Never knew what's good for ya, that’s your problem. Well I’ll show ya. Don’t ya worry.’ He resumed the relentless beating and his fists were clearly raining down on his helpless brother in a regular pattern without any signs of stopping. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. 

'Stop it, ya fuckin' coward!' He yelled again through the wall. ‘It was all my fault, ya hearin’ me, ya bastard? My fault! Take it out on me, not him!'.

'Merle!' Daryl screamed.

No answer from Dad of course and no let-up in the blows what so ever.

Meanwhile inside the damn walls of his room, Merle started to smash his shoulder against the solid wooden door – hearing those fists hit home each time making him more frantic as he redoubled his efforts. Even so, he couldn't stop his body from flinching each time those hard unforgiving knuckles hit already bruised flesh and bone. 

'Please don't!' He heard his brother cry. Now he was whimpering each time afterwards and begging their father for forgiveness for telling him about the scars. Something he hadn’t even done. A bad sign that he had long given up his Dixon dignity in his desperation for it all to stop. Merle knew that Daryl would refuse to give the asshole the satisfaction of hearing him scream or beg for mercy as long as he could.  
It must be real bad and he was dreading seeing the state of him if he ever escaped.

Suddenly there was total silence which was the most alarming of all. The eerie silence seemed to last hours not minutes if his panicked state of mind was anything to go by and he didn't think about what it might mean. 'Daryl, ya OK?'  
No answer.  
'Fuck!' He screamed again in fury directed at another door now as he gave it some of his best shots, but he knew it was useless, it was solid. 

Then, he cursed his own stupidity – he always had the window, why hadn't he thought of it before? Because it was pretty high, and he would probably end up with a broken bone or two if he just jumped out but even that was better than imagining what their father was doing to his brother. Ominously, there was still no sound.

Merle gave up on trying to kick the door open when his brother started to sob. He knew it took quite a lot for that to happen, and that was all he needed to open the window and leap out of it.  
He knew he'd be no good to Daryl with a broken leg or ankle so he clung to the gutter-pipes lining the side of the house instead.

Hanging suspended like that in the air, he saw with relief that he didn't have far to go to the roof above their front door. Why hadn't he tried this before when he was younger to escape his father's rages? Then he let go without even blinking and just as he predicted, everything went just fine and he landed on the ground on feet that were tingling from the harsh landing. He hardly felt them though as he yanked open the front door, thanking some higher power that the bastard hadn't locked that one too. After all, in their village, everyone knew everyone else so thieving from your neighbour was immensely dumb as well as dangerous. 

Knowing that he couldn't really afford a second to spare but doing it anyway, he opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet by the main door and drew out their dad's gun and weighed it in his palm for a second. Right then, remembering his brother's pleas for mercy, his false confessions – Merle felt furious enough to kill the old bastard.

Without taking so much time to breathe, he ran up the stairs as fast as he could and burst in to Daryl's bedroom. He could hear his brother screaming in pain – a different and more desperate sound this time and a hissing, sizzling sound he knew all too well reached his ears ringing with adrenaline. He’d been willing to bet all his money their dad was putting his cigarette out on his brother. 

Just as he expected, that's exactly what he was doing while he straddled him. Daryl was writhing in agony on the floor, trying to get away. His brother could see his battered face and the bruises in the shape of fists all long his back and sides without any problem.  
"Get your fucking hands off him, dad!" He trained the gun on their father, taking in the scene before him. 

Their Dad turned around from where he was now standing over the bloody form of Daryl lying on the bedroom carpet. He didn't even look surprised to see Merle there holding his own pistol in his hand. He smiled at him in triumph before he tossed the cigarette he'd put out on his brother in the corner. From where he was, Merle could see at least a couple of freshly made circular burn-marks on Daryl's back. More scars, he sighed to himself. Meanwhile, his brother just buried his face into the carpet and sobbed, his small shoulders shaking.

‘Come on now, ya know you deserve this. Don’t try to guilt-trip me, boy.’ He turned Daryl around so he was lying on his back then, drawing another cry of pain from him when the rough carpet scraped against his injuries. Merle, already furious, went absolutely livid as he took the black and purple mess of Daryl’s face in properly for the first time.

‘Have ya completely lost it?’ He bellowed as his hand nervously went up to rake through his short hair. ‘Look at him, ya piece of crap! Look at what ya done!’ 

Will looked down at the sobbing boy who still didn’t dare to move a muscle and studied his handiwork with chilling indifference before he looked back at Merle. ‘You just shut ya mouth, Merle. This is at least half your fault. Does it feel good, son? Knowing you're one reason why I'm teachin' that lying little sissy brother of yours how to show his father respect and not to lie to his elders?'

Daryl stirred and groaned then. Merle could see that he was trying to open one half-swollen eye in his battered face. When he could focus his one eye on his big brother, he gasped and reached out to him with one shaky hand, ignoring their father completely. Bad move – this seemed to enrage Will who was just then taking notice of the gun aimed at him and smirked before he turned around and punched Daryl right back down again.  
'What did I tell ya? Show me some respect, boy!' 

Daryl only gave a soft little sound of pain in response, too tired to even hit back with a typical snarky Dixon reply. He was finally broken – Merle realised to his dismay. He'd been momentarily frozen while this was going on but then he came back to life. "God damnit! Stop it! You're killin' him!" 

"Oh no, just teaching him a lesson that's been a long time comin'."

'I mean it, touch him again and I'll fuckin' kill ya, Dad. Get the fuck away from him.'

Will turned around completely then and Merle flinched at the hate and anger in his eyes, wondering how much a person could carry within them without the poison destroying them completely. Merle felt incredibly uneasy at this train of thought but at least he wasn't hitting Daryl anymore, he noted to his immense relief. Just as he was thinking this though, their dad suddenly grabbed Daryl by the collar of his bloodied pyjama-shirt and shook him, when no response came he backhanded him across his face to wake him up. As if he hadn't had enough already. Wake him up for what? Merle thought, he had gotten what he wanted from Daryl, a confession, broken him so that he begged for mercy in the end, what more could he possibly want? Unless he wanted him to be awake and feel all the pain. Merle shook his head in disbelief at how sadistic their father was being at the moment but why did he expect anything different? He'd been exactly the same with him when he was younger. A shiver went through Merle when Daryl’s body almost seemed lifeless to him in the bastard’s grip but he was just mercifully unconscious. 

Will let him slump to the floor then and turned to face his other son who was still aiming a gun steadily at him. "I’ve been waitin' to ask you where the hell ya get the nerve to aim my own gun at me, son.’

‘How I got the nerve?!’ Merle spat and took a step closer to them.

‘Better not leave here with it.’

"Get away from him. Now. I fuckin' mean it, old man.'

"Ahh...ya ain't got the balls to shoot me, boy." He crooned over at him. 

"Wanna push me and see?"  
He tried to look past their father's body to see if he had any broken bones on top of everything else but their Dad was in the way and besides, he couldn't really tell without examining him properly. Nevertheless, Merle could tell by his rapid, wheezy breathing alone that he was in really bad shape. He might even have a few cracked ribs. 

"I'm done with him anyway - jus' get him out of my sight.' Will gave him one last passing look of scorn and Merle could tell that he was fighting a powerful urge to give him one more parting kick before he let them go. Merle snarled at him in warning and didn't stop following him with his gun – he didn't put it past the old bastard to turn the tables on them again somehow.

'I mean it.' Will turned back to glare back at them with those hate-filled eyes. 'I want the both of ya out of my sight. Maybe not having you ungrateful, snotnosed little bastards around here for a while will do me some good."

"You kickin' us out?" Merle knelt down beside his battered brother and touched him gingerly, still prudently keeping the gun on their father while he did it. Daryl groaned but otherwise didn’t stir.

"I am. Fed up with the both of ya and ya sassin' me."

"We'll go gladly. The fuckin' gift of the century, thanks Dad!' Cheery sarcasm was heavy in his voice. 'No, seriously, we s'posed to get upset 'bout that?" Merle snarled as he went back to training his weapon on their father, while he crouched protectively over his fallen brother.

'Ya heard me. Only since ya brother’s badly hurt, I'm gonna be generous and give ya...oh...five minutes to get out of this house.. And leave my gun by the front-door if ya don't want me to come after ya.' 

Merle knew that he meant that threat but surprisingly, he didn't care and he didn't bother to reply. In response, he lowered the weapon slightly to aim it at the middle of their father's back until he was completely out of sight and he could hear him go back downstairs.  
Then he was able to fully focus on Daryl for the first time.

"Come on, ya heard him.' Merle was pretty sure that Daryl hadn't, he was mercifully passed out. But he could at least try to pretend their father didn’t just beat his 11 year old brother unconscious. He could talk to him like everything was normal, at least until they got somewhere safe, couldn't he?'  
He lightly tapped the least swollen side of his face to rouse him and when he did, his kid brother's breath hitched in his chest: 

'N...No. Please Dad...I'll be good...' He pleaded.

'Sh...It's me, Merle. He's gone.'

'It hurts...' He groaned and winced when he tried to get up. 

'I know, I know. I'm so sorry...' 

'That's OK.' Daryl looked up at him with one eye shining and Merle didn't understand for the life of him how he didn't blame him for what had happened.

'Up ya get, little brother. Ain't doin' ya no good lyin' on the floor gatherin' dust is there?" He joked. It was a pititful attempt to lighten the situation even if Dad had only given them a few minutes to get out. Of course his stupid joke fell flat and Daryl didn't laugh like he normally would have done if he hadn't been in so much pain because he always laughed at his jokes, no matter how lame. Grunting with the effort instead, he caught his outstretched hand in his own and squeezed it to try and hoist himself up.  
"No, you little idiot, I'm supposed to do the heavy liftin', jus' lay back and relax."

"Hurts." He moaned and Merle badly wanted to console him but not knowing for sure where he was hurt, he didn't dare touch him. His pyjamas – except for the shirt which the bastard had rolled up to burn him concealed more bruises that he guessed were there. 

"I know, I know it does. Come on. I don't jus' want to grab you. Ya got to help me like ya jus' did. Fucking hell, ya ain't seen the damage that asshole's done to ya this time...Wish I'd killed him for ya.'

His little brother's lower lip trembled and he looked away and Merle could tell he was on the verge of tears.  
'Fuck it and fuck him.' Daryl hissed, wiping his eyes. 'Let's get out of here before he comes back.'


	8. Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the boys finally get a break?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to all our reviewers! Sorry that it's taken us a while to update – One of us have been very busy with moving arrangements. Anyway, here goes...
> 
> And as always reviews are love – let us have it!

Daryl groaned and slumped back when Merle reached for him again. 'Don't wanna...I wanna stay here.' He mumbled, looking ready to pass out again. Merle frowned, unable to believe that his brother actually wanted to stay here. When he knew perfectly well that the psycho was downstairs watching TV and could come back any minute making them pay for not packing fast enough. He'd assumed that Daryl could hear the TV blaring out too and would realise this but he hadn't taken into account that he was in shock and on the verge of passing out. Probably not even sure where he was or what he was saying. He shrugged his shoulders, putting it down to shock.

‘Sorry but we can't stay here – he might come back.' He told him and glanced fearfully behind him. But their father was chortling along with the cheesy fake laughter from the sit-com he was apparently watching without a thought for Daryl and the state he'd left him in. It made him uneasy as hell. At least for the moment, they didn't need to worry about where he was. Unbelievably, he was behaving like nothing had happened - like he hadn't just beaten his eleven-year old son into a bloody pulp.

Daryl only groaned and his eye-lids fluttered when Merle brushed the bloody strands of hair away from his eyes. Both boys flinched when their father's bellowing voice came up to them all the way from downstairs: 'Are you having trouble understandin' what I jus' said to you, Merle? I said get yourself and that little shit out of here!' There was an ominous pause when they didn't answer. 'Better get a move on before I come up there with my fuckin' knife!' His voice rose almost to a scream and he wasn't laughing anymore but was deadly serious.

Their father's threat managed to bring Merle out of his daze and he snapped his fingers in front of Daryl's face to wake him. 'I'll take care of ya as soon as we're away from here.' He promised. 'Stay here while I get ya bag, and then we’ll be outta this dump before you know it.’ He knew that it was pointless telling his brother to stay, he probably didn’t dare to move an inch – with Dad, that had always dragged out the beating. Besides, Daryl was clearly too hurt to go anywhere.

Still, he looked like he was about to protest, but Merle silenced him with a simple shake of his head. ‘It’ll be all right, promise. Stay.’

He rushed out like their lives depended on it. But on a day like this, he didn’t dare put their father to the test because their lives probably did depend on him managing to get them out of there fast enough. He’d never seen him so angry before - not with his brother anyway, and that said quite a lot. He paused briefly wondering where the fuck were they to go? Sandy’s? She always said her house was open for him whenever he felt like it. Of course when she said that, she had sex on her mind and not Merle dragging his kid brother along. With little time to waste, he shrugged his shoulders. They would deal with that problem when they had the luxury. What was important now was to get Daryl out of harm’s way – he didn't think Dad would really do anything to him.

He was back at his side in no time, he only had to quickly drag out his bag out from under the bed and then they were leaving. Merle observed with concern at the way Daryl was forced to take tiny baby steps, one at a time down the staircase. Frowning, he suddenly stopped him in mid-stride by gently holding him back by putting a hand against his chest. ‘Hey… come on, I’ll carry you, what do ya say to that, baby brother?’

Despite the obvious pain he was in or probably because of it, he snapped back with his old fire, ‘I ain’t a fucking baby, Merle!’ He shook his hand off and determinedly tried his luck again.

'Can walk by myself.' He muttered irritably but he only got as far as a few more steps before he was swaying weakly on his feet. He was lucky he had an equally determined big brother at that moment, who was right there to catch him in his arms before he fell down to add a broken neck to all the other injuries. Dad, meanwhile thankfully kept quiet, and they hoped that he had already passed out from the whiskey he was no doubt drinking by now on top of the exertion of beating the crap out of his little boy. 

Merle rearranged the bags, and hoisted him up despite his fierce scowls and protests as he stubbornly continued to ignore the pain. ‘Think you had enough of excitement for the day, don’t’cha think?'

'Whatever' was his brother's sullen reply but he looked relieved, nevertheless.

'Let me carry ya, and quit whinin’ about it. Won’t even tease ya for it later.’ Merle gave him a small smile of encouragement before he cut him off again: ‘I said no whinin’! Jus' relax and enjoy the ride.’

Daryl sighed in his arms and finally gave up but when they came to the bottom rung, the one eye he could open grew wide in fear and he shrank back to bury his swollen face into his brother's chest. No doubt it hurt like hell to do it but he gave no sign of it apart from gasping when Merle tightened his grip on him in reflex. This was the most dangerous part, and they were both wondering if their dad would really let them go because now Will had the focus his rage so close at hand. Both of them were waiting with bated breaths to see what he would do next. 

He was sitting there, smack in the middle of the sofa, pointing his rifle at both of them as they moved further along the hallway towards safety. ‘Just in time too, I was just about to come and see what the fuck was takin' you two so long.' He smirked across at them with a cruel twist to his lips.

Daryl whimpered and clung tighter to his big brother. Of course, the bastard heard it and sneered before he turned his face away in contempt. ‘Brought it on yourself, boy. Should know when to keep ya mouth shut.'

'Don't listen to him.' Merle whispered to him. 'It'll be OK, I got ya.'

Unintimidated by the weapon aimed at them, he snapped back, ‘He ain’t doin’ so good, in case ya wonderin’.

‘I didn't want him to feel good – the very opposite, in fact.'

‘Shut up, old man. Just be glad I didn’t shoot ya for what you did.’

He turned and began to walk out, but paused at the front door when he suddenly remembered their father's other gun that was still in his bag.

'Fuck it.' He mumbled. 'Don't want to give him an excuse to come after us.' Somehow, with his arms full of Daryl, he got it out from where it was sticking out from the top of his bag and tossed it on the floor. It barely made a sound.

Daryl didn't react to any of this and Merle worried that he'd passed out again or maybe just phased out like he did sometimes when things got all too much for him. He wished he could do that too – pretend he wasn't there, that he was somewhere else better instead.

The last sounds they heard from their father was a chuckle and him muttering behind them with wonder almost full of pride, 'The fuckin' mouth on 'im…’ and then Merle cut him off when he slammed the door behind them and they were finally free, breathing in the night fresh air.

Merle went right up to his truck, dropped their two bags in and opened the passenger-door while keeping a tight grip of his brother with one arm. Somehow he managed it without dropping him before he carefully put him down inside on the passenger-seat. Fuck knows how he'd carried their stuff as well as him. But then again, adrenaline and righteous rage gave you strength and besides, Daryl wasn't very heavy.

'Jus' hold on, little brother. Safe now.' He reassured him before he got behind the wheel and allowed himself a short breather. He hated to admit it, but it was a shaky one. He turned back to gaze at the house they grew up in one last time, half-expecting their father to come out with his damn rifle or the other gun Merle stole from him and shoot them both dead. He shook his head to clear his mind of the image and turned the key in the ignition. The gravel snapped under the tires and they were finally on their way.

‘I’m gonna drive us to Sandy’s and see if she’s home. That OK with you, baby brother?’

Daryl shrugged his shoulders like it didn’t matter to him where they went, which was probably true. Anywhere would be better than that hell-house they called home.

Sandy lived a mere 20 minute drive from their house, and truth be told Merle was pissed as hell when she told him no, but unsurprised.  
Carla was his second choice, but apparently he’d said something he couldn’t remember last time they were together and she furiously slammed the door in his face before he could even open his mouth to say ‘Hi.’

He got back behind the wheel and examined his sleeping brother with growing concern. He knew he had to find somewhere fast where he could patch him up and do some damage-control. But where? He wouldn’t be surprised if he had concussion with all the heavy blows he’d taken – too brutal for such a small body. What if he died? An icy hand gripped his heart at that thought and squeezed it hard until he gasped. He shook his head because he knew Daryl was tougher than he looked.

He had to be.

Merle realized with regret that he had to wake his brother up, just in case he was in danger. He was no doctor but even he knew that you shouldn't let someone you suspected of being concussed fall asleep. Not at least until you could get them to a hospital and get them checked out properly. 

Did Daryl need a hospital? But then there would be awkward questions, maybe they would look at him askance and think he was the coward who did this to him. What was more worrying was if they might actually do their job for once and call a social worker - probably the cops too - even if Merle dropped Daryl outside the entrance and drove off. But Merle didn't want that. Even if the old bastard deserved being hauled down to the copshop and losing his son. Getting the authorities involved would have consequences – nobody would believe that he just fell down the stairs or got into a bad fight with some older boys – all those old excuses wouldn't wash this time, not with the way and the places he was hurt. Dad would be going to jail and as much as Merle wanted to make him pay, he couldn't do that to him. He was still their father after all, no matter what he'd done and some small part of him still felt love for him. Most importantly it would leave Daryl alone. He’d be placed in foster-care no doubt since Merle was still two years from turning 18. He shuddered, everyone knew that in most cases, they never cared if you pleaded with them to not be separated. It wasn't fair because he knew he could support both of them and that no-one could take better care of him than he could. Even if he wasn't technically an 'adult', he was in every other way except his age. Surviving life with their father kind of forced you to grow up fast. 

Besides, when others – especially Dad's drinking cronies found out he'd grassed on his own father even if he hadn't, he would never live it down and there would be repercussions there too...In their neighborhood, talking to the police was one of the worst crimes you could commit. He'd have to leave for good no doubt...

But on the other hand, he couldn't really take his chances with his brother’s life either...What if he was bleeding inside?

He just had to hope that he looked worse than he actually was. That with some care, he would recover. In any case, he promised him silently, they weren't ever going back home. He was never going to let their piece-of-shit father get his hands on him ever again.

Merle knew he should get going, start driving but where he had not the slightest idea. So he sat there, in the layby on the side of that lonely country road near Sandy's place, listening to the corn rustle on either side. It was a lonely sound, sad but lulling and he found his own eyes drooping until he forced himself awake.

How could he wake up his brother? Didn't Daryl deserve and need his rest after everything he'd been through lately?

The fear of touching him in a place he was already hurt and making it worse stopped him from checking him over. So he settled on what he’d done before, just brushing his hair back from his forehead instead. ‘Hey, Daryl. Ya gotta wake up.’

‘M’tired Merle…’ He replied dozily.

‘I know, you can sleep later. I just have to make sure you'll live first. Let’s drive to Marty’s, huh? I can see if he’s got a spare room, and he can get you a doctor. He should be off work any minute now.’

Daryl’s head lolled to the side as he was just about to fall back asleep, he noted while he changed gear. He snapped his fingers in his brother’s face, feeling bad about it but the worry was getting to him. ‘Gotta try to stay awake jus' a little bit longer until we get there, little bro.’

Merle stepped on the gas to try to get there faster. When they arrived, he went straight to the back of the bar and walked in where usually only the staff were allowed to enter. His family and Marty the bar-owner went way back, and Merle thought of him as an older brother more or less. He didn't see him anywhere though, but he did notice their father’s best buddy Mike sitting at the bar, chatting with a couple of hunters from the village.

He greeted Merle with a smile and the others nodded and moved off in silent understanding as Mike waved them away. His cheerful mood didn’t last long when he noticed the younger man's uncharacteristically downcast eyes and anxious expression.

‘Hey, son, what’s wrong? Ain’t lookin’ too good there, kid.’

‘Dad kicked us outta the house. If you think I look like shit, ya don't even want to take a look at Daryl.’

‘What do you mean?’ He stood up from where he’d been sitting in alarm.

‘Well, see...' Merle hesitated, looking around to see who was watching or listening but nobody was before he said in a low voice, 'Dad’s been hittin' him again…gave him the worse beatin' yet. I…I ain't sure if he’s got a concussion or what, but he ain’t doin’ too good. I don’t know what to do, there ain’t none of the bitches who will take us in for the night until we can sort ourselves out…God damn heartless skanks…’ He whispered angrily and banged the table with his fists in frustration, drawing a few curious looks. 'I told 'em what had happened to him but none of them gave a shit...They said their places were too small for the both of us (he'd asked around a couple more of his 'girfriends' on the way). ' He added a bit louder this time. ‘Dad really crossed the line this time, he's never been this bad before, and I don’t know if Daryl needs to go to hospital or what.’

'Fuckin' bastard! I told him not to...' Mike hissed before he put down his glass of beer, attracting even more stares of interest from the other male and female patrons – unfamiliar faces who were clearly new in town.'What the fuck ya starin' at? I got two heads or somethin'?' He snarled at them in challenge and they hurriedly went back to talking to each other or nursing their drinks. Despite the fact he was worried sick over Daryl, Merle smirked. Mike was a powerful man and although he was a drunk, he never seemed like one. He took care of himself, looked good and generally radiated authority but like most of the village folk, he also had a mean and nasty foul mouth.

'Fuckin' dead-beat morons.' Mike grumbled and shook his head before he gave Merle his full attention. ‘Don’t worry, you boys can stay at mine as long as ya need to.' He finished finally. 'Let's get him back to my place and see what's what.'

'Thanks. I appreciate this, I really do.' Merle’s tense expression eased a little at this. But only a little. Then, without even asking, he grabbed Mike’s glass, raised it in a mock salute and downed what was left of it in one huge gulp. Mike just smiled and waved goodbye to his buddies sitting across the bar.

Once they were outside, Merle immediately raced ahead and was soon back to his nervous self when he saw that Daryl had failed to keep his eyes open while he was gone. ‘God Damnit, Daryl!’ Without thinking he yanked the car-door open. This of course made his brother cringe back from his abrupt and rude awakening, his eyes wild as he tried to take in his surroundings and work out where he was.

‘I had to make sure you weren’t unconscious. Sorry I was gone so long but I brought Mike with me.' Merle explained.

Daryl didn't reply, just guardedly shifted in his seat. Mike put a hand on Merle’s shoulder, silently telling the older brother to take a step back and relax before he took over and approached the open car door.

'Now, let's see the damage, son.' He addressed Daryl gently and crouched down next to the small boy. When he saw his face, he had to fight the impulse not to bite down on his knuckles and bellow in rage at the sight in front of him. He knew it would only scare him and the kid had been scared enough, judging by the looks of him. Deciding not to say anything else that would remind the boy of his obvious injuries, he cleared his throat. ‘Daryl, it’s uncle Mike. Ya awake there, kiddo?’

He stirred a little again but didn’t seem to have the energy to reply.

‘You and ya brother are my houseguests for the time-being, that sound good to ya?’

Daryl simply nodded. ‘I don’t feel so good.’

‘Yeah, I know. We’ll fix you up once we get back to my house, me and Merle will. How about that?'

Merle didn’t know how they could all fit in the three-seated truck, Mike was larger than life and all pure muscle to boot. It was a tight fit, but with Daryl taking up practically no space at all, they made it. A little further along the road, his little brother was leaning against Mike, probably not even fully consciously and clutching the man’s t-shirt with one small fist. Merle knew he did that to make himself feel safe. Mike had always been their favorite amongst their dad’s drinking buddies – seemed decent and self-respecting, somehow. He drank but never enough to completely lose it.

'That's it, kiddo. Safe now.' Mike told him as if reading Daryl's mind.

Mike's little house wasn't far away from Marty's of course and after he brought the truck to an abrupt stop, Merle took care of the bags while Mike carried Daryl in his arms towards the house. When they reached his front-door, he fumbled for his keys while keeping hold of Daryl with one arm, just like Merle had done, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. Merle didn't know why he had reacted like that – Mike was much stronger than he was, wasn't like he was going to drop him or anything.  
He knew that he was just being overprotective again, if there was anyone apart from him who could keep Daryl safe from harm, it would be this man.

Soon the door swung open and Mike hurried in to gently lay Daryl down on his back on the sofa, trying to cause him the minimum of pain while Merle kicked the door shut behind them.

Daryl was now semi-conscious and thrashing around weakly. Merle was right by his side in a shot when he saw his brother’s obvious distress.  
'Sh...' Merle whispered. ‘I’m here.’

'Merle…' Daryl breathed out and reached blindly for him in thin air.

'Yeah, it's me. Sh... Ya safe now.' Merle soothed and reached out to brush the strands of hair from his forehead once more so that they could see the bruises and cuts on his face better. He was gentle but even so, his little brother winced.

'Bastard.' Mike clenched his hands into fists as he growled out the word. He'd grown up with their father and they were best friends, but even he couldn't stomach looking at the boy's bruised and swollen face.  
'Looks like he's had ten rounds in the ring with a fuckin' bull-dozer and lost. How could he? What was he thinkin'?' Mike blurted out, shaking his head in disgust.

'Is he gonna be OK?' Merle asked anxiously.

Mike didn't answer straightaway, and that more than anything scared the bejeezus out of him.

'I need to check him over.' Was all he said.

Mike started pulling Daryl's pyjama shirt over his head but the boy shuddered and stopped him.

'No...Go away...' He mumbled dreamily. Sounding like he was zoning out again or most likely, losing consciousness.

'I have to check, Daryl.' Mike replied patiently and tried again.

This time, Daryl jerked away. 'No, I said get off me!' He hissed at him.

Mike sighed and backed off. 'Fine.'

'Daryl!' Merle was aghast. 'It's only Uncle Mikey. You know him, he ain't like Dad...He ain't gonna hurt ya or nothin'...'

Daryl rolled over on his side. The others stared at him.

Merle looked over apologetically. After all, the man had taken them in when no-one else would. 'Sorry...Maybe he's concussed or somethin'...Don't know what he's sayin'.'

'Forget it. But talkin' of that...that's what we really need to check for, even if he won't let us see nowhere else. I need to see his eyes.'

'Daryl, turn round.' Merle ordered.

He ignored him or maybe he didn't hear him.

'I said turn the fuck around, Daryl! We have to do this.'

Daryl reluctantly turned back to face them, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

'Let Uncle Mikey look at ya eyes.'

'No!' He fought them as Merle pinned him down as lightly as he could by his wrists. Even so, he flailed his head around and kicked out at them with his legs – he was remarkably strong infact and Mike had to jump out of the way.

'Didn't want it to be this way, but ya makin' it hard for us...' Merle hissed down at him in frustration.

'No, Merle, I said don't let him!'

'Shut up!' Merle snapped at him, regretting it instantly when he recoiled. 'Look, just lay still, OK?'

To their surprise, Daryl obeyed but he still cringed away when Mike leaned over him.

'Sh...Jus' wanna check ya eyes...it ain't gonna hurt, promise.'

Mike got a pen light ready from his desk to look in both eyes and examine the size of each pupil as it reacted to the stimulus.

Mike started with the one that was fully open before he moved to the one that was swollen shut. Merle saw what he was about to do and put his body in the way between them as he hissed. 'Can't ya knock him out with somethin before ya fuckin' do that?'

'No can do, not if he's concussed. Sorry.'

Merle could only stroke his brother's arm to try and distract him. 'Be brave.' He told him.

'Sorry.' The man repeated again to Daryl while the boy grit his teeth to hold back a whimper of pain when Mike gingerly lifted the black and swollen lid up. Merle stroked his arm but he was brave until the end, seemed to lie there like he was frozen in resignation until the ordeal was over. 

When he was finished, Mike looked back at Merle and shook his head slowly.'His head's OK – no concussion that I can see but I don't know about the rest of 'im. Could have internal bleedin' though.' He mouthed at him silently over the boy's head.  


Merle didn't answer his urgent, silent question, planning to check Daryl over himself once he was asleep. 'Ya got anythin' to give him? For the pain, I mean.' He asked. 

Mike nodded and went upstairs to his bathroom cabinet and came back with a bowl of water, washcloth and a clear transparent baggie of white pills. Trust him to have a remedy for every sticky situation - even if it wasn't quite legal, the older Dixon thought to himself. He eyed the bag with suspicion nonetheless.  
'What are they?'

'Jus' downers – nothin' too heavy. They’ll just make him sleep and take away the pain.'

Merle frowned, not quite convinced by this, despite what he'd said earlier. He didn't much care what he chucked down his own throat, but Daryl's? He didn't want to start his baby brother on that shit – once you started, it was hard to get off it. It didn't matter that he himself was the biggest junkie around, he was nearly fully-grown and could handle it. But not Daryl. The last thing he wanted was to start him on that rocky road to be his junkie companion. 

Because Daryl was better than that.

'One's enough for him. He's small for his age.' Mike declared expertly.

Merle only stared doubtfully at the white pill in the man's big hand, but one more moan of pain from his brother as he shifted, trying to get comfortable but clearly unable to, convinced him. Mike could also tell that his pain was increasing. It was getting to him even if Daryl didn’t say anything. He went to the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water as Merle tried to coax his brother to sit up. 'Ya gotta sit up, little bro.'  
Daryl groaned and it seemed to the two men when the other returned that incredibly, he was perking up a little. Apparently, he didn't remember the scene before when they pinned him down. Neither of them were going to bring it back up, it wasn't important.  


'My head hurts...Hurt all over.' He groaned, seeming to really notice how much pain he was in for the first time.

'Come on, sit up.' Merle helped him. 'Jus' take this medicine...It'll make ya feel better.' He was now more or less fully awake but still a little dozy.  
Daryl half-opened his good eye. Even so, it didn't look pretty either...He'd have a black eye to go with the swollen one he couldn't even see out of in the morning.  
'I know ya hurt. But the pill'll take all that away. Right, Mike?'

'Yeah, ... it will. Promise.'

'Uncle Mikey?' 

'I'm here, Daryl.' He crouched down again in front of him so that they were at eye-level. 'Jus' do what ya big brother says, OK?'

'Uh...OK...' He agreed.

Mike went out to the kitchenette again and came back with a bowl of ice and a towel. Daryl took the glass from Merle gratefully and swallowed the pill that he put in his hand.  
'Good boy.' Merle said, realizing too late that he sounded like their father when he was in a good mood and approved of something Daryl had done – rare occasions indeed. Luckily, his brother didn’t react so there was no damage done, Merle could only wish he hadn't said it in the first place.  
'Let's get ya back down.' He helped him to settle on his back, before he sat himself down next to him.

Didn't take long before Daryl crawled closer to him and rested the least battered side of his face in his lap. It was clear that he wanted his big brother.  
Merle sighed at Daryl's neediness, yet he couldn't really blame him, he'd been literally pummeled into the ground. He’d been pretty fucking brave about it too though. Hadn't cried about it once it stopped,, only said that he hurt. He put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder reassuringly, letting him know that it was OK, that his sigh didn’t mean anything bad really. He was just dead tired himself after the drama of the day and badly needed his sleep. He could only imagine what it was like for him, Merle thought while he looked down at the tussle of dark chestnut hair in his lap.

After a while, when enough time had passed for the drug to take effect, they knew they could get to work. Merle could tell by listening to his breathing that was now deep and regular that Daryl was really out for a count. 

'That’s it – let him stay there close to you. Now that he’s under, I’ll clean up his face and we’ll work our way down after that.' Merle nodded at Mike’s words and just steadied Daryl’s head on his lap.

'Look at him… God damn it….' Merle exhaled shakily, as if he hadn't understood the full extent of the damage inflicted to his face before. 

'This ain't right. Ya Dad's gone too far this time and I'll say that even if he is my best friend. What makes him turn into such a monster, huh?'

‘Hell if I knew…It was all my fault. I got high and broke down that shitty bathroom door but Daryl's the one who paid the price.' Without him aware of it his hand went back to his brother's hair, running his fingers through it while Mike cleaned the dried blood off his face as gently as he could. This made him look better – but not much.

'Damn it! It's all my fault...' He blurted out suddenly, racked with guilt.

‘Somehow I doubt that.’ Mike said as he padded a cracked eyebrow and fixed it back in place with one of those funny-looking butterfly-band aids.  
‘But ya know how ya dad gets when he’s drunk – maybe there's a lot of him in you and I would think twice before getting shitfaced and high on top of it. Ya know that ya usually do something stupid, Merle.. As for ya father, there’s no excuse, he knows that he always goes looking for a fight, wants to use his fists on someone after a few drinks... He should try to control himself when he's got a kid in the house.'

‘But sometimes the booze mellows him out...' Merle protested despite himself. Lord knows why he was defending the asshole.

‘I wouldn’t gamble on that. More often it makes him worse, I'm tellin' ya. I know him – we grew up together and he's always been the same. But this is one time too many.’

‘I know.’

'Hold his head up while I take off his shirt would ya? I think it's safe to do it now, fuck knows why he wouldn't let me before.’ Merle did as he was told but he thought he knew why Daryl made such a fuss but he said nothing.

Mike discarded the bloody shirt onto the floor and he and Merle both hissed at the patchwork of blue and purple bruises their eyes were met with almost simultaneously.

The older man turned him over to find more of the same along his sides.'Jesus!' He exclaimed. 'He could have killed him!'

Merle went pale and nodded, his eyes taking all the marks of their father's brutality in.

‘'Why did ya old man do this to him? Because you broke a door?'

‘Partly. It's a long story, but was uncalled for. Wasn't nothin' he did, that much I can tell ya.’

Mike worked his way down Daryl’s chest now and was just about to remove his pyjama pants but stopped just as his fingers was about to undo the knot on the front of them. ‘Hey...What's that on ya arm?' Merle followed Mike's finger to where it was pointing at the small circular marks on his forearm while he still stroked Daryl's hair soothingly.

‘He put his cigarettes out on ya?’ 

He demanded.

Merle nodded like it had been no big deal even though that was a lie. He remembered all too well how their Dad used to extinguish his Lucky Strikes on him. As if he could ever forget with his body littered with permanent reminders. Some were in the shape of perfect circles while others spread out sloppily from the stubs being pressed too deep into his flesh and kept there.

He knew the pain of being used as his Dad's human ashtray - he used to think it was the worst in the world at one time. He recalled Daryl's high-pitched shrieks of agony just before he burst in the room earlier tonight in sudden contrast to the stubborn silence he'd maintained even while Will had been beating him within the inch of his life. He’d apparently kicked him as hard as he could too, judging by his heavily bruised torso.  
The asshole hadn't worked for years but those industrial quality boots still came in handy when he wanted them to, Merle thought bitterly. 

He was relieved that Daryl was lying on his back again right then, concealing his scars from the whippings. God knows what Mike would have done if he'd seen them. He was looking more furious each swollen bump and bruise they worked over with the ice and Merle cursed aloud when he saw the small, angry red looking fresh blisters from the bastard's fags. Really, how could he hope that Mike would miss them, not know what they were? They stood out like snow in July for fuck's sake and just as he feared he would, Mike finally lost it.  
'Those what I think they are?' He dropped everything without warning, his face slowly reddening with rage as he stood up and rapidly strode out of the room, not giving Merle time to answer.

'Hey! Where ya goin'?' Merle would have followed and tried to stop him but he didn't want to dislodge Daryl - not when he was getting some desperately needed rest after finally being allowed to. Merle knew that getting up wouldn't wake his brother - Mike had said he would be dead to the world at least for the next six hours. Even so, he didn't want to leave him here alone. He'd freak out if he found himself in a strange place without him there, even if they'd been here before. Part of him knew it was useless, but Merle tried one last time to call him back: ‘Hey, Mike! Where ya goin’?’

The big man didn't answer, not that Merle needed one, he already knew where he was going and who he was going to pay a visit to. He tried one last time to try to reason with him, to get him to see it from their point of view. 'Leave it! It'll only make things worse!' Merle finally got his answer when the front door slammed shut with a bang.

Instead of stressing over something he had no control over, he sighed in exhaustion and slumped back against the sofa. He knew that he badly needed to sleep but he felt too wound up by recent events to just drift off. Without a second thought, he reached over for the baggie on the coffee-table. He popped three or four of those fuckers, swallowing them down with the rest of Daryl's water just as he heard Mike’s car roar to life outside. So what if he'd already been taking stuff and drinking? He needed something to calm himself down.  
With that thought, he gently yanked his peacefully sleeping brother closer to him so that his head was now lying on his stomach, much more comfortable for them both. Merle was glad the pills worked their magic fast on him and gave in to them quickly by leaning his own head back against the wall.

Soon, he was snoring loudly, joining his brother in sleep.


	9. Uncle Mikey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody knows that the heroes with the best intentions in the world are tortured souls forced to struggle with their dark sides - the only difference is how dark those sides are. 
> 
> Because they know what it is to suffer like the rest of us - that's what made them help in the first place.
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have to add some extra warnings here - as the story is getting darker...  
> This chapter includes references to: (nearly adult?) consensual sex, child pornography, descriptions and fantasies of child sexual abuse.  
> There's a shocker in store in this chapter for sure, so please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable or may trigger you! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love, let us have it!

What woke him up was the sound of a car approaching from a distance. Merle came awake slowly, reluctantly, not sure where he was but when he felt a weight lying on top of his belly, he cried out and instinctively tried to buck it off. But then he realized that his arm was wrapped around it - and with relief, he looked down at his brother's dark, tussled hair. It seemed that even in his sleep, he'd been protecting Daryl. Although there was no longer any threat, any danger.  
Not with Mike.  
Yet, he was bitterly reminded of the time when Daryl had said ‘Old habits die hard’ and now he totally got what he meant. 

With a sigh, Merle ran his fingers through those dark chestnut locks one more time, soothing his brother soothed him too and he even thought he glimpsed a small ghost of a smile on his Daryl's split lips in response. He returned it but of course, Daryl had his eyes shut and couldn't see him so he tried to doze off again but the car was coming closer to the house by the second. He sighed and gave up trying to go back to sleep and listened to it stop right outside. Shortly afterwards, he heard the car-door slam then their father's friend's heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel towards the front-door.  


He didn't know what made him do it but he tightened his arm about Daryl just as he heard the key turning the lock and the front door open. When he glanced nervously down at the watch on his wrist he saw that they'd both been out of the count for about an hour. Not a good sign.  


He knew he needed to sleep but now that Mike was back, he was naturally too wound up because judging by the time he'd been gone, their dad had been home when he decided to drop by and he'd no doubt done what he said he was going to do. Merle had heard the same determination in the large man's footsteps coming back as they’d had when he left and he dreaded what he must have done to their father on Daryl's behalf - he'd been so damn furious. He half-expected him to come barging in with his lips twisted in a smirk and his huge fists dripping with their father's blood but then he told himself that now, he was just being plain stupid. 

But Mike didn't. Sure, his chest was puffed out a little in pride at having dealt out some old-style justice that had been a long time coming, but mostly the big man just looked tired and sad.  
'At least I taught him a lesson – pick on someone his own damn size in future.' He sighed as he sank heavily into his armchair.

Merle couldn't help wondering who came off worse in the fight – had their Dad been in any state to hit back?  
'Wh...What did ya do to him?' He couldn't help stammer out, worried for their father. Especially when he couldn't see any obvious injuries on the other man.

Mike looked up from the patch of carpet he’d been staring at since sitting down, and seemed to notice them properly for the first time and almost did a double-take before he grinned in surprise. Looking at them seemed to cheer him up for some reason.  
Instead of answering Merle’s question he beamed at them; 'Why, lookee you two. Ya really love him, don't ya?'

Merle blushed furiously and immediately yanked his hands away from his brother like they were burning. He hadn't realized that he was still stroking his hair when Mike came in. Now he kicked himself for looking like a fag, coddling Daryl like that with his arm around him.  
But Mike wasn't mocking him apparently as he went on with complete seriousness, 'No need to get all embarrassed jus' because ya care about him, Merle. Daryl's one lucky boy to have a big brother like ya.'

'Yeah, he's so fuckin' lucky. His Dad nearly beat him to death and I couldn’t stop it! Fell for that nice father act too, and I’ve been around that asshole a few years longer - should know him better by now!'  
Mike shrugged his shoulders and smiled ruefully.  
'Worse, Daryl got punished because of somethin' I did!' Merle continued to rage at himself sourly.

‘Don't beat yaself up too hard 'cos I reckon your Dad would have done it to him either way, no matter what he thought Daryl did or didn’t do. Judging by the state of ya brother, Will had been buildin' up to this for a long, long time -jus' waiting for an excuse to blow. Just like some goddamn volcano on one of them tropical islands ya see on TV or somethin'. So stop blamin' yourself for it, 'sides what's done is done...'

Merle wished he was right but he remembered what Daryl had said about Dad changing for the better, he'd been convinced that he meant it this time and Merle had wanted so hard to believe it. He snorted hard through his nose, unsure how to feel about all of it.  
'You really don't think it was my fault?' He looked up at the older man with an expression of almost timid hope.

Mike shook his head. 'Me and 'im had us a little private conversation. Sorted some things out.'  
Yet, he didn't seem very happy about it as he mumbled despondently on the chair opposite them, hands dangling uselessly between his spread knees and shook his head again.

Looking at him closely, Merle noticed the man’s bleeding, swollen knuckles for the first time. Cuts like that could smart like hell, he knew that from experience after a difficult fight. ‘What…what happened?’ He asked him again.

‘Well, I like to think that I finally got through to him. Maybe he’ll think twice in future before he uses someone smaller and weaker than him - someone who can't defend themselves - as his personal punch bag. Most of all, not use his fists on his kid who didn't do nothin' to deserve it.'

‘You’re tellin’ me you…He hurt bad?’ Merle asked, trying to fake nonchalance he didn’t exactly feel because no matter how bad he got, he couldn’t help but feel a stab of fear for their old man. He might be an evil son of a bitch most of the time but he still didn’t like the thought of him lying there alone on the floor, bleeding, maybe even in pain and with no-one to check up on him. The neighbors – although a nosy bunch, had learned long ago to stay out of Dixon family business – the price they paid for interfering just wasn't worth the effort. But whenever he or Daryl were in real trouble in the past, the old couple down the road could be counted on to let them in so that they could escape their drunk father.

Mike saw the look on his face. ‘Don't worry, he's OK. Nothing he couldn't handle. Jus' gave him a warning, was all.’ Then he reached over to open one of the beers that was on the table. Despite Daryl being dead to the world, he flinched in his sleep when he popped it open. Mike noticed and shook his head without asking why, deciding not to pursue it. He shrugged his shoulders: ‘I pretty much did to him what he did to Daryl.' He said.

Merle grew pale despite himself and nearly got up off the sofa,dislodging Daryl . 'Then I should go, check up on 'im...'

'No need. Told ya he's OK.'

'But...'

'Why do ya care so much about what I did to him? It’s about time he got some payback... I never knew he did it to you too, otherwise I would have done this long ago.'

Merle shrugged his shoulders and looked away. 'Jus' better at hidin' it, I guess...’Sides, he never went this far with me, not when I was Daryl's age anyway.'

Mike snorted in scorn at that. 'Son of a bitch...Best buddy or not, I would have...'

'It don't matter now.' Merle cut him off. ‘What’s done is done, ain't that what you said?’  
Mike grinned back at him, he liked it when the older Dixon boy answered back, turning his own words on him.  
Merle knew that smile, Mike had always been one to encourage his smartass side. 

He smiled back and looked down at his sleeping brother who only just then had stirred a little to make himself more comfortable. Thinking that he'd passed on his smart mouth to his brother. Not that Merle didn’t enjoy watching Daryl try to act cool and imitate him, but it also worried him that he might have given his other not -so-positive traits to him as well. Such as his drink and drug problems or his shitty taste in girls – he knew he'd probably never make a good husband or father. He prayed that Daryl wouldn't be like him when he grew up, would settle down with a nice lady, have a decent job and finally get away from their toxic Dad...Merle would be the awesome uncle that spoiled those kids rotten – letting them eat too much candy at the fair and getting scolded for it by Daryl's wife... Give the boy pony-rides on his back, pushing the girl on the swing back in the yard...they'd be his kids in a way too.

He grew calmer and stared ahead without seeing while he enjoyed this daydream. Until he snapped back to the here and now, realising that his mind had drifted away from him again. It seemed difficult for him to focus properly this evening and who could blame him? He didn’t want to be stuck in this fucked-up reality where his little brother constantly got hurt just because of their father- a monster who couldn't control his goddam temper.

He shifted in his seat and sat upright, he knew he had to deal with everything, and form a plan to keep Daryl safe. He was no fool, it hadn't escaped him that Mike was leaving out specific details of what had actually gone down at home. However, Merle suspected that it was more bravado than anything else because he looked pretty shaken up himself. But that was no surprise, he’d just beaten the crap out his best friend who'd he'd known almost his whole life.  
‘You OK? He clocked you too, didn’t he?’ Unconsciously, Merle's arm went back around his sleeping brother as he spoke and Mike raised his eyebrows at this but didn't comment.

‘Nah, maybe a couple of times. He took me off guard when I was trying to get my point across to him.’

‘Yeah, he don't go down easy, does he? Did he say anythin'?' Merle asked hopefully.

Mike shook his head: ‘Nothin' except he jus' kept sayin' that he only meant to toughen him up and teach him some respect.'

‘Fuckin' bastard. He didn't even say he was sorry, did he, huh?’

‘Nope. Did you really expect him to? You know how stubborn your Dad is...and proud as hell with it. But he got as good as he gave to ya little brother, so hopefully he won't do it again. 'Bout time someone gave him a taste of his own medicine.'

‘Yeah, we can live in hope.’ But he didn't sound convinced, not even to his own ears.

‘Look, you must be tired. Daryl' ain't gonna wake up anytime soon...You can both take my bed.'

'But...' Merle began to protest but Mike cut him off.

'I’ll stay on the sofa, I'll be asleep before ya know it. I’m beat.’

‘We’re all right.’

‘I didn’t ask if you were all right, Merle. I know you ain’t and neither is he. I said I want you to take your little brother with you and have my bed.’ With that, he went to pick up Daryl but Merle shook his head.  
'I can manage.' He told him, lifting Daryl up in his arms as he stood up and slinging his limp body over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

Mike shook his head and smiled at this show of devotion. Of course, he knew that Merle was feeling guilty for what happened and that had a lot to do with his protectiveness but he certainly did genuinely love his baby brother. Anyone could see that. It really was no wonder that he was so protective with a father like that and he hoped that it was the last time that he would have to teach his best friend a lesson about fighting fair.  
After all, a real man didn't pick on those weaker than him.

Merle took Daryl up to bed, meanwhile Mike kept an ear out until he heard the door to his bedroom shut and the bed creak a little under both their weight. Letting them have his bed had felt like the right thing to do, but it wasn’t the only reason why he’d insisted. He wasn't planning on sleeping anytime soon despite what he told Merle and when he heard all noise cease from the bedroom, he went to his tiny study and bolted the door fast behind him. He wanted to make absolutely sure that he wouldn't be disturbed.

He took a deep swig of the beer he'd brought in with him and got the photos out, telling himself that he wasn't hurting any of them by merely looking. He had some videos too that he kept under lock and key in the safe-box hidden in the wall... He was eager to watch them but he didn't risk it, not with the boys under the same roof.

As he undid his belt and opened up his flies, he hesitated, full of doubt all of sudden. Some of them were not much older than Daryl...and that thought made his stomach turn.  
With a shrug, he leaned back and began to touch himself. Slowly at first, then faster as he flipped the album to his favorite pic and the urge to moan became more and more urgent. When lost in the sheer pleasure of it and his own fantasies, he was finally forced to do his best to stifle any sounds coming from his mouth. But it was practically impossible to do and he ended up biting down on his own belt when he came harder than he ever had this way before and couldn't keep his moans in.

At least he was satisfied for now and he breathed hard as the familiar guilt started to creep back up on him. He knew in some ways that he was worse than his son-beating best friend but it didn't stop him from indulging in his own secret pleasures but chased the guilt away like he usually did, telling himself that it wasn't him hurting those boys.

Three days later and still with no news of Dad, Merle left Daryl in Mike's care while he went off to take care of some 'business', so he said. They didn't ask him what but the truth was he had to just get out of there, now that he knew that Daryl was being taken good care of. Still, it was 'business' in a way, his own 'personal' business and after he'd done it, maybe he would try to make a buck or two. He didn't like Mike paying for everything for him and his brother.  
He got in his truck that was parked next to Mike's car and tried his luck at Sandy’s first. She wasn't in and Merle sighed with disappointment.

He sat in the car awhile, wondering who to try next. His libido had been raging ever since Mike had insisted that they share his bed while he took the sofa for the fourth night in a row. Not that Merle wasn’t grateful to have a soft bed to sleep in, and usually he didn’t mind sharing with Daryl even though he would never ever admit it. But he’d been horny as hell lately. He’d soon given up though on any thoughts of self-relief because naturally doing his business so close to a sleeping Daryl had just felt wrong.

He briefly considered Carla, but not for long. She still hated his guts, if only he could remember what he 'd said to her. Probably he'd called her something degrading right after screwing her brains out, with his characteristic charm. Chicks always dug that, he thought with a mocking smile. It must have just slipped out and he’d been too high at the time to notice, usually ending up with him saying exactly what was on his mind and what he really thought about her. Merle chuckled to himself at that, in the bedroom department, he really was a master.

Who lived closest from here? He turned the car around when who'd be available – who always nearly was, dawned on him.  
Melanie had been a lot lower down on his list when he'd been looking for somewhere to take Daryl because she was already married. Luckily, she was in, and apparently alone. Merle could tell that her husband wasn’t home when his flashy SUV was nowhere to be seen on the driveway, making him smile from ear to ear.

She opened her door to him in her negligee. The brunette's figure was fantastic – slim where it mattered most but curvy in all the right places with a big bust and yeah, she was a few years older than him – 23 or 25. So what? She was still one foxy lady and he could tell by the thinly-disguised lust in her eyes that she was bored and as horny as he was. 

Merle looked around nervously. For some reason even though he told himself he shouldn't care, she weren't his, he didn't like her flaunting herself to the whole neighborhood like that. Worse - drawing attention to him as well as to herself. So, without a word, he pushed her inside, drawing a giggle from her at being so rudely manhandled.  
'Someone might see ya!' He gripped her by the top of her arms and gave her a small shove further in the hallway before he kicked the door shut behind them.

'So? Maybe I wanted them too.' She paused, eyeing him approvingly, licking her lips. 'Or did ya think I was jus' savin' myself all for you, you arrogant boy?' She smiled then, taunting him, flashing her white, pointy, perfect teeth.

He didn't take the bait. 'He at work?' He demanded abruptly instead, feeling himself get hard at the sight of her flat stomach and long, slender legs.

She nodded. 'I'm all yours, baby.' She went up to him and wound her arms around his neck and kissed him while he breathed in her expensive perfume. Her husband (he never asked for his name- didn't care) did relatively well for himself, worked as a manager at the local bank and their place was nice. Plus, there was no kids around to spoil their fun.  
He growled and kissed her back, letting his teeth just graze lightly over her skin. She arched her back and moaned, wrapped her legs around his hips. He considered taking her against the wall, that would be something they hadn't done yet.

'Missed ya...' She breathed and gasped when he started to roughly unbutton her blouse, his fingers clumsy in his need.

He didn't answer. Truth was, he didn't care for her and he knew that he was just a welcome distraction to her too.  
He hitched her skirt right up to her hips and hurriedly started to undo his belt but she stopped him, with one hand on his arm.

'No, not here.'

'Why not?' He murmured while he nuzzled her neck seductively.

'I want to do it in our bed.' She announced.

He stopped and stared at her, mouth hanging slack in surprise. This was something new. Was she pissed at hubby for some reason? All the better for him!  
Then he thought about it – crossing that line that she never let him before lent his eyes a glint of excitement as he followed her up the stairs. He didn't even wait for her to reach the top, just swept her shrieking up in his arms and dragged her up them before he kicked the door open to the forbidden bedroom and threw her on the bed. She screamed in surprise when he did that.  


She looked up at him and laughed before he jumped on top of her and started smothering her body with kisses, paying particular attention to her large breasts. Then he practically tore off her expensive clothes and tossed them to the floor not that she was complaining. Her lacy scarlet panties soon followed suit before he kissed her down her body and his skilful tongue did its work between her thighs until she cried out and shoved him off her.

He lay there looking up at her questioningly and she nodded. She never said no to him and with relief that he was going to be able to satisfy himself – his balls felt as big and tight as watermelons before he started to push in. Merle didn’t complain, the sex was hot and going without for a while made it even hotter.

When it was all over, she tried to snuggle up to him, making him frown in irritation. 'Hold me, jus' a little while.' She wheedled, clinging to his arm. 'Pleeze.'

'Sorry darlin', I gotta go.' He was already getting out the bed and sitting on the edge, pulling on his clothes. Having got what he wanted – no, needed – he corrected himself, there was no point hanging around. Besides, his baby brother needed him more than this slut did and he needed to start paying their way, they couldn't go on sponging off Mike forever after all.

'Ya were jus' usin' me?' She emphasized every word with a hard slap on his back to let him know exactly what she thought about this.

He just shrugged and laughed at her before he got up, fully-dressed. Duh. Didn't the stupid bimbo know that Dixons didn't cuddle? They never had before so why the fuck did she ask him to this time?

'Ya one cold bastard, ya know that?' She screamed and threw one of her stylish red stilettoes at him. The pointy heel nearly blinded him but luckily bounced harmlessly off his temple instead.

His smile died quickly at this attack, along with his laughter - the close call finally made him lose his temper.  
'You fuckin' bitch!' He yelled at her, rubbing his head. 'That could have gone in my eye!'

'Good! I was aimin' for it, you asshole!'  
He gave her the finger without even looking at her before he raced down the stairs. He could still hear her screaming but he wasn't listening.  
'And don't come back!' Now she was yelling at him from the top window, the top half of her body shrouded in the white bedsheet but he ignored her as he started the engine. Still, he did feel a sliver of regret – that chick had been one fine piece of ass. Truth be told, the fact that she was quite a lot older than him aroused him like nothing else could.  
He shrugged his shoulders - he knew he wouldn’t have any trouble finding a substitute for little, hot, crazy Melanie.

He whistled cheerfully as he began to drive away, not sparing her a second glance even though he could hear her still yelling threats and insults behind him until her house was out of sight. Merle started to chuckle again and rub his aching temple where the stiletto had hit. He did love feisty women, honest to God he did and the whole drama made him forget about making money for their keep.

When he got back to Mike's, he found the two of them on the sofa. He had his arm around Daryl while they watched cartoons on TV, the scene making Merle frown.  
'Need a drink.' Was all he said before he headed for the small kitchen.

'Get me one too, will ya?' Their host called after him. Merle hissed in annoyance even as he did as he was asked. To be honest, he was getting sick of being here, he badly wanted his own space. He knew how much he needed it when he was even growing tired of being cooped up with his baby brother. It took quite a lot for that to happen, but then again, he wasn't usually stuck with him for days on end.

Merle had his own life – he'd do his own thing like go out drinking, get laid or earn money or all three in various order. What usually drove him out of the house was when it was just him and Daryl and the kid was in teasing little brother mode. Transforming a boy who normally worshipped the very ground his big brother walked on to an insufferable little rugrat who went out of his way to annoy him. Merle couldn’t help but smile though, what did he expect? The kid had learned from the best after all.

But he wasn't very well going to call up their father and beg to come home just because he was feeling trapped and things were getting too intense between all three of them. He knew if he didn't get a real break though, things were going to blow up between him and Mike real soon and he didn't want to seem ungrateful.  
The next day, there was still nothing from Dad – not that they were expecting an apology but it was strange that he hadn't even called. Merle wondered again if he should go back home and just check that he was OK but after a lot of debating with himself, he decided not to again. Actually, he would rather die than show himself weak by letting their father get to him or hint that he cared a dime about him. After all, the bastard deserved a little pain after everything he'd done to Daryl, including scarring up his body for life.

So, that night, Merle went out and left them to it – his cabin fever back was again in full force. He desperately needed to spend time chilling out and feeling like an adult again and he planned to go for some beers with his buddies at Marty's. He asked Mike if it was OK and he agreed but seemed to deliberately mock him when he ran his fingers through Daryl's hair just like he'd done himself very recently. But then Daryl had been hurt and scared – he'd had good reason. But what was Mike's? Merle looked away then – something about this made him uneasy but he couldn't explain it and he knew if he didn't get out of there, he was going to say or do something he'd regret later. Besides, he was probably seeing things that wasn’t there. Making something innocent into something more sinister, like Mike deliberately provoking him for no reason.  


He shrugged his shoulders. The man had been nothing but kind and generous to them after all and he put down to his sheer need of getting the fuck out of there as the reason for his unfounded paranoia.  
'I'll be back before midnight.' He promised before he left, actually meaning it when he said it.

'Fine.' The man smiled, this time putting his hands on Daryl's shoulders, Mike didn’t need to reach very far to do it either. His brother was hanging close to him as usual. Acting more and more like Mike's little shadow the longer they stayed there. Merle averted his eyes again and went straight out of the door without looking back.

But when he wasn't back by 1am, Mike shook his head and made his way upstairs. Although really, what had he expected?  
'Ain't gonna wait up for him no more.' He muttered, feeling his eyes burning with tiredness. He understood that Merle felt trapped here and even as much as he loved Daryl, he needed time out...The company of a kid, all though Daryl was funny and sweet, wasn’t the same. Even though Daryl was used to foul language and didn’t shy away from using it himself, they felt like that they had to watch what they said. Then there was the stuff they couldn’t discuss with him there. 

Might as well spend the night in my own bed, looks like he ain't comin' back anytime soon, he mumbled to himself, even then not sure exactly what he had in mind. Jus' gonna sleep is all, he promised himself, pushing the videos out of mind. Especially the boy who was almost a split double of Daryl in 2 or 3 years. Deliberately not thinking how expertly he pleasured the adult man with his experienced mouth, or the fact of how much it had turned him on when he’d seen the resemblance.

He made his way slowly up to his bedroom where the sleeping boy lay, looking forward to waking up in the morning without an aching back for once. He'd seen Merle looking at him funny, frowning at him and Daryl when they were together lately but he put it down to the boy feeling cooped up. Watching him was like watching a powerful thoroughbred stallion straining at his bit, tossing his mane and prancing around impatiently, waiting for the race to start. The kid had too much energy but he was 16 after all – almost an adult and Mike didn't blame him for wanting time out sometimes.

Mike on the other hand didn't mind staying at home with Daryl – far from it, in fact was his last coherent thought before he drifted off beside him. He hadn't woken up, Merle said he never did when he went off to Dreamland and apparently that was true.

Yet, about five hours later, he woke up in his familiar bedroom and forgot for a moment that he wasn't sleeping alone. It came to him when he could hear, not least feel him puffing out small and peaceful breaths close to his ear. He glanced down at the boy then, and it didn’t take long before a smile tugged at his lips.  
'How could he hurt you? How could anyone?' Mike whispered, sure that he wouldn't hear. 'Ya look jus' like a little angel that fell from heaven.' He lay a quick peck on his mouth. 'You really do.'

It was true - Daryl was deeply asleep and looked relaxed and so happy, like nothing in the world could ever trouble him. Basically just like a child his age should look. But then he moved and Mike froze when one of Daryl’s legs wedged themselves innocently between his. He thought nothing more of it until Daryl shifted again. He was obviously trying to make himself more comfortable and pushed his knee slightly higher in his sleep. When it rubbed against Mike's groin, the man couldn't hold back a surprised gasp before he went cold all over.


	10. Home Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It looks like they've found a sanctuary at Mike's but if they scratch beneath the surface everything is not what it seems. Will Merle figure it out in time?
> 
> Comments and kudos are love, let us have it!

Merle came back the next day just in time for lunch.  
'Sorry. It got late so I ended up crashin' around a friend's.' Was all he said. He wasn't feeling very talkative with his thumping head that was doing its very best to kill him.

‘Never mind. We all need to blow off steam now and again, don't we, Daryl?' Mike reached over to where he sat at the table and ruffled his hair. The boy nodded and looked up at the man in adoration and Merle couldn't help but compare it to the way he looked at him and felt a stab of jealousy. Not to mention annoyance at their host's cheery mood. Even if he had had been spending more time outside the house lately than in it with them, that didn't give Mike the right to completely take over and try to steal him from him. Daryl was his brother, his blood after all, not Mike's. Although he had to admit that the man had done more for them during these couple of weeks than their own father had managed to do in a whole year but even that didn’t any of this OK.

The man looked up and only smiled indulgently over Daryl’s head before he went back to cooking.  
'Ya want some bacon, son?' He asked him cheerfully, holding the sizzling pan in hand, ready to put some on the third plate already laid out for him at the table. Something about that made the teenager want to grit his teeth.

'No, thanks. Ain't hungry. Any news from Dad?' Merle asked like he always did several times a day. He couldn't believe that their old man hadn't crumbled yet and phoned to see how Daryl was despite the callous way he'd chucked them out.

Mike shook his head in disappointment for them before his features brightened up again. 'Hey, maybe you and Daryl can stay here awhile longer, huh?  
Until everything settles back down at home at least?' He almost pleaded.

Merle just stared at the man without giving him so much as a gruff grunt in reply, his head was hurting too much and the last thing he wanted to do was think that far ahead or talk. Let alone eat greasy food – the smell alone was enough to turn his stomach. He knew he probably came across as ungrateful but he had to admit, his hangover wasn't the only reason for his nausea. Watching the two of them together, even though he knew Mike only meant well was at least part of it.  
He put it all down to him being the overprotective big brother he always was, but fuck it, who could blame him? Especially not after recent events. With that last bitter thought, he left them to stomp grumpily back upstairs to sleep it off but couldn't help overhearing part of their conversation carry before he closed the door behind him.

'What's wrong with him?' He heard his brother ask innocently.

'Too much beer probably.' Mike joked. To his intense annoyance, Merle heard Daryl chuckle along, sounding as if they were laughing at him.  
…

But what neither of the boys knew was that Will had already called several times over the previous days before he finally took the advice Mike gave him. Stay away and not do more damage than he'd already done. Give the boys some space and time enough to forgive him and hopefully, they would come round. Somehow, Mike always got to the phone first whenever he called and their conversation always went the same way. First Will would sound almost cowed and apologetic, but it didn’t take long before he lost his patience and demanded to speak to his sons. Mike would always refuse to go and get them and Will gave up despite his persistence at the beginning of their stay. Besides, his best friend who knew him from childhood succeeded in easily dissuading him each time because he knew just which mental buttons to push. 

It was easy to keep the truth from the boys too since Daryl was more or less on bedrest recovering while Merle was tied up taking care of him. When he wasn't out prowling the neighborhood, that was. When Merle wasn't there, it was even easier for Mike to deal with Daryl and fob him off if he asked who had called. But he rarely did – probably thought his Dad was still angry and really didn't care about him. It didn't hurt Mike to let him carry on believing that his father had kicked them both out for good. Even though a part of him hated the disappointed and hurt look that would ghost over the boy’s features each time he replied 'No' to his inquiries about his dad.

Mike didn't want them to leave, especially not Daryl and he intended to do his damnedest to keep them here with him as long as possible.  
But now it was more obvious than ever that his best friend couldn't keep away for much longer, Mike could hear it now clear as a bell in his voice when he rang - Will was anxious to see his boys again. He worried vaguely that their father might get tired of the endless excuses, that he would no longer believe them and come to take his sons back home sooner rather than later...

He knew that one way or another they would have to go home eventually, he was no fool. But he for sure as hell could put that day off for as long as he could. He would probably get away with dodging the calls, lying about who he’d been talking to a little while longer, even though Merle had looked at him funny the last time it happened. Meanwhile, the dread of knowing that his friend would snap eventually and turn up to darken his doorstep and take them home with him, leaving him alone in the empty house with all its memories would get to him. But more often than not he pushed the fear away. He knew that it probably wouldn't happen today or even tomorrow.  
After all, Will was a proud man.

**  
While Merle was sleeping off his hangover that afternoon after they'd eaten, the two of them snuggled up on the sofa to watch a baseball game. Mike had Daryl's head in his lap, just like his big brother had sat with him. The game couldn't keep his attention, not when the real object of his fascination was lying so close to him and he soon lost interest and let his mind drift off, to really think.

As his thoughts always did lately, first they would be drawn to Maggie, his late wife, sure as a bullet shot from a bloodthirsty gun.  
His beloved wife who had died 8 years ago of a nasty form of ovarian cancer. She’d never been big, but what little flesh she'd had, the cancer had soon eaten away. That was one of the things that had gotten to Mike the most about the whole ordeal. Not just the pain she was in, but watching her lose weight, witnessing how the woman he loved withering away to practically nothing right before his eyes like that. It had been his own private hell and when the time came when she died in a morphine induced coma, Mike saw it as a blessing because at least she wouldn’t be hurting anymore. It had taken a lot of time for him to begin to live some semblance of normalcy after his loss but the truth was that he’d never gotten over it.  
He knew he never would. 

The loss of their wives, a few years apart had cemented his and Will's friendship - deep to begin with even further. They'd comforted themselves by playing poker with the other guys and drinking.Forgetting. Will had been his rock then and when his turn came round, Mike had done the same for him. Joking together, trying to take his mind off things...not pitying him which would have been the most unforgivable thing he could have ever done and vice-versa...  
He understood how Will felt – he really did. Understood his loss but it was no excuse to be beating on Daryl, putting his cigarettes out on him. Only cowards hurt their kids.

Mike knew that taking his grief out on his sons was some kind of twisted coping mechanism for Will but he'd been shocked to find out exactly how far he'd gone with them. Merle's casual revelation that he'd had cigarettes put out on him too when he was younger had sickened Mike, especially when he knew that Will was a decent man underneath. He'd been a good father to begin with anyway. He only hoped that Will could go back to being the man he knew without needing a reminder again from him in the form of the same kind of vicious thrashing that he had been meted out to his defenseless younger boy.

If Will only knew his way of winding down from a rough day, he thought as he guiltily glanced down at his best friend’s son.

Daryl was almost asleep, he could tell, what with him stroking his hair and the boy’s interest in the game had been zero to none to begin with. Of course, he'd had none either, still unable to concentrate with Daryl so close, try as he might. Anyway, watching TV had first only been an excuse. Mike knew that they would eventually end up close together like this and had planned it that way. At first they had merely sat side by side after he suggested watching the game and invitingly patted the space next to him on the couch. A few minutes later though, when he felt Daryl move closer against him almost shyly as if silently asking permission to do so, Mike didn’t waste any time and soon had his arm about him. The boy had even sighed with relief, clearly starved of affection from adults that didn't result in pain. Eventually he even ended up on his back, stretched out on the sofa with his head in Mike’s lap somewhere in the midst of him reminiscing about his dead wife. While he was in the middle of trying to work out where everything had unravelled and gone to shit. Ever since Maggie’s painful passing, he'd had these goddamn feelings about boys. Young boys. Twisted desires that he just couldn’t explain, but they were there nonetheless.

As he fingered the silky locks his train of thought took him to the more pleasant feelings of the night before. He badly wanted to put his lips and press his nose into those silky, shining strands and breathe in. He wouldn't mind kissing his temple either but he stopped himself just in time.  
'You're sick.' He mumbled in disgust to himself and took his hands away. But after a few seconds, he couldn't resist running his fingers through Daryl's hair again.

He knew he shouldn't even be touching him even though the kid was younger than the boys he'd been looking at, so no danger. Still, he told himself, it was not like he was hurting him, Daryl had moved closer to him first, not the other way around. He didn’t force anything on him, not like the sick bastards in those videos did to those poor boys. Didn't take a genius to see that they were high on something in the few movies where they seemed willing enough. Their wooden smiles never reached their eyes, for instance.

There was just something about him that made everything that much more difficult to resist...He'd vowed never to touch a kid in ways he shouldn't, just thinking about it made him shudder and he considered pushing Daryl off him and sending him home for good.  
Even though he treasured the memory of last night, it had been far too close. 

He knew he should have just walked right out of the bedroom and walk back down those stairs after he checked in on him – what the hell was he thinking getting in bed with him? But in the end, he'd maneuvered himself from the sticky position they were in and only cuddled with the boy while he slept. It had felt so good breathing in the boy's scent, to touch his soft skin where it wasn't bruised...  
He had managed to stop himself just in time when he was about to cross a line. He wasn't a monster, he would never go further than that and do something he shouldn't.

He liked to think that him being there made Daryl feel safe in his sleep, just like his big brother had no doubt made him feel that first night. He could tell himself truthfully that he hadn't done anything that Merle hadn't already done and the best thing about it was that Daryl hadn't even woken up. Allowing him to slip out quietly before he did in the morning.  
Even knowing the risk, he wouldn't mind a chance to do it again next time Merle decided to pull another all-nighter. Holding himself back from doing anything more than just coddling Daryl had been one of the hardest things he'd done - but at the same time he couldn’t deny the rush he’d felt when he passed his own test with flying colors. Oh well, close enough anyway. 

If he could just convince Chrissie to come back. Mike knew it would make everything a bit easier for him to control his urges if he had a willing woman in his bed...But if she by some miracle were to come back now with Daryl right in front of him, he’d probably end up not wanting her and she would know.  
He sighed and tried to focus on the rest of the game, in the end he finally succeeded.

...

The boys stayed with Mike two more weeks before the phone-call they'd almost given up waiting for came one morning.  
Merle strained his ears, trying to hear the hushed conversation from the small kitchen. Daryl was perched on his chair, eating a slice of toast and jam hungrily in one hand and looking much better. His bruises were fading and he was healing not just physically because more than that, it was clear that time away from their father without fear of being hit or worse was doing him good. Merle had observed this to Mike one night and the man had agreed, it hadn't escaped him either that the flinching was less frequent and that he seemed much brighter than before.  
It was obvious that Daryl was feeling stronger too. For example, he'd started the morning by happily prattling away to his big brother, making plans for the day ahead until Merle put his finger on his lips and shushed him, jerking his head meaningfully in the direction of the hall. Daryl obediently fell silent.

'...ya think I'm gonna let'em go home to you after what you did?... What?' Mike's voice rose in angry sarcasm.

Now Merle had no doubt who was at the other end of the line, apparently their father had finally noticed their absence.  
There was a tense pause that had them both on edge before Mike broke the silence.

'It better not happen again! You lay one hand on him again and you'll think what I did to you was a walk through the park in comparison!'  
A part of Merle wanted to cheer him on, it was good that somebody was finally putting their old man in his place, but then something told him that this wasn't the first time their father had called since they'd been there. Had Mike been lying to them? Why?  
This slow realization began to seriously piss him off and he listened even more intently. Daryl too, maybe he was thinking the same thing.

There was another pause.

'No, you can't talk to them!' Mike was practically yelling now, forgetting in his anger that he had an audience with ears as big as pitchers in the next room. 'No,I already said that Daryl doesn't want to talk to you!'

By then, Merle had heard enough and was by his side making the other man frown in irritation when the receiver was practically ripped out of his hand before he could stop it.  
'Dad?' He breathed.

'Son? Is Daryl there with you? Is he OK?'  
Mike had a worried frown on his face and tried to take back the phone again but Merle snarled and motioned him away. He shook his head and gave him some space but the teenager didn't notice – he intended to have some serious words with him once he got off the phone.

'What? Ya only jus' noticed that we left?' Merle scoffed sarcastically even though he was pretty sure by then that the opposite was true.

'No, 'course not. I've been tryin' to...Is Daryl there? Can I speak to him?' Their father repeated anxiously.

'Yeah he is.' Merle cut him off. ’I’d never leave him alone, and ya know that.’

'When ya bringin' him' home?'

'Not yet, Dad. Daryl's still scared of you.'  
There was a silence at the other end and he heard a sharp hitch in his father's breathing on the other end of the line. Was it pain? Or guilt? Merle sincerely hoped it was both.  
'Bye, Dad.' He told him coldly and was about to end the call when he was interrupted by him in turn. 

'No? Well, I want both of you to come home. Right now!'  


Without warning, his father had gone back to barking orders at him like Merle was used to, causing him to roll his eyes. But underneath the harsh tone and words, there was a note of pleading in his father's voice he'd never heard before. The older brother's eyes grew wide in surprise.  
'I told ya not yet, Dad! Daryl's not ready!.' He dared to snap at him then only because he wasn't physically present. ''Sides, his face is only jus' healin'.  
It was a low blow but he wanted him to know exactly what he'd done.

'Shit.' His father cursed. 'How badly did I...? I was drunk – didn't know what the fuck I was doin'...'

'Same old, same old.' Merle retorted as if bored.

'I know but I promise it'll never happen again...I mean it this time! I know I went too far...Jus' bring him home...'

Now his father's tone had gone back to wheedling but Merle wasn't fooled.  
'Why?' He asked. 'Mike's bein' real good to us and he feels safe here.' He sneered as he gave the knife another twist.

'Sometime soon, then?' Their father's voice was hopeful.

Merle stared down at his hands, still in shock at this sudden change in their father's voice.  
'Maybe but I ain't promisin' anythin'. Bye.' Merle abruptly ended their conversation before he put the phone back in its cradle. There was a thick silence in the house and he dreaded confronting the man who had rescued them and given them everything and more than they needed. Asking him why he had stopped their father speaking to them.  
But it needed to be done. 

When he finally turned around, he found their host standing in the doorway to the living-room with his legs straddled apart and his arms crossed defiantly over his chest. The man also sported a look of thunder on his face making Merle feel a little shudder of guilt and self-doubt – maybe he lied to them out of some misguided notion of protecting them? But his anger soon made him throw that aside. Their Dad had been trying to get in touch with them since they got there, there was no longer any question about it.

'I told him that neither of you wanted to talk to him!' Mike barked at the older boy, now sounding just like their father.

Merle stared at him before he heard a sound behind him only to see his brother with surprise hesitantly move closer as if he had his back. Daryl was looking nervous and uneasy for the first time since they got there. At Mike's raised voice, no doubt. Merle had time to think smugly that Mike's mask had slipped and he was glad that his brother saw it because no-one could be that kind and good.

'Merle...' He tugged at his sleeve. 'Was that Dad on the phone?' He asked anxiously.

He glanced back at him over his shoulder. 'Yeah it was. But don't you worry.' To Mike, he turned around and said, 'You can't stop us talkin' to him, ya know.'

Mike humpfed before he swung around to head back into the other room without another word. Merle could tell he was furious, especially when he slammed the door shut behind him.

'What did Dad say?' Daryl asked. 'And why's Uncle Mikey angry? Is it because of somethin' I did?'

Merle sighed and gently pulled him out from behind him so that they were facing each other before he crouched down in front of him so that they were at eye-level. He hated the fact that his brother always blamed himself when other people argued and somebody got angry around him. 'It ain't you. Dad wants us to come home.' He told him.

'But...' His face fell. No surprise there.

'I'll tell ya later what he said, OK?' He glanced towards the closed living room door that now had the TV blaring out behind it, even louder than before.

'Uh...OK.' 

Daryl smiled waveringly up at him and Merle stroked his arm to reassure him. 'Don't worry about it. I ain't gonna let anythin' bad happen to you – not again, I promise.'  
With that, he prepared what he was going to say to the other man in his mind.  
'Now, why don't you go on up to our room while I sort things out with Uncle Mikey?'


	11. Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s Mike with a behaviour that’s growing increasingly weird and especially creepy if you know his dark secret. There’s Merle, that senses something’s very wrong, causing his protective big brother instincts to kick in. Then there’s Daryl, restless from weeks of recovery, resulting in him giving Merle a taste of what younger siblings think is their God-given right by testing Merle’s patience further. Either way, there's a big storm brewing ahead...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay – we got time for doing some writing again!  
> Comments and kudos are love - let us have it!

'Look...Ain't that we're not grateful for everythin' you've done but....' Merle started nervously when faced with their host who got up to switch the TV off to give him his full attention. Mike slumped back onto the sofa while Merle took his seat in the armchair opposite him. He was trying to relax his tense shoulders while he looked at the older man trying to figure him out without being too obvious. He had to tell him something that wouldn’t go down well, but it had to be done. He breathed out slowly through his nose trying to calm himself down, and was actually glad that Mike was the one to break the silence.

'You’re right, Merle. I shouldn't have interfered...I was jus' tryin' to protect you –both of you.' He added hastily and glanced pointedly behind the armchair, letting Merle know that they weren’t alone.

'Thought I told you to go back to ya room?' He turned around to question his brother a little sharply, raising one eyebrow.

'Oh - let him stay.' Mike waved it off and had straightened up a little when he saw Daryl crouching there to listen with an anxious expression on his face. 'Ain't like we're talkin' about state secrets or nothin'.'

Merle’s face softened a bit when he saw how tightly wound up Daryl was. He knew that arguments made his brother anxious, one of the reasons Merle had told him to go upstairs in the first place. He also knew Daryl wouldn't be happy with the harsh home truths he planned to give his precious 'Uncle Mikey'.

Merle looked back at Daryl and finally shrugged his shoulders. If Daryl wanted to listen it wouldn't change anything he planned to say either way, and he soon got back on track again undeterred. 'Fine. I get that ya were doin' what ya thought right, but he’s still our dad, not you.'  
Daryl hissed at that but they both ignored him.

'I know I can't ever replace blood. I can't stop you leavin' but... ya sure it's safe?' Mike mouthed the last word, clearly not wanting the boy to hear.

'He's sorry, I know he is. Could hear it in his voice.'

But the other man humpfed and raised his eyebrow's sceptically, but said nothing. 'When ya thinkin' of goin'?'

'Tomorrow mornin' or maybe afternoon...depends.'  
Mike looked at him and sighed, clearly disappointed at him wanting to leave so soon.

Meanwhile Daryl gasped beside him in surprise - he'd crept nearer without him even noticing. 'Merle, do we have to? I wanna stay.' He whined.

Merle looked at his brother suddenly with tired eyes. He knew this would happen...They were getting too comfortable here and Mike kept on refusing to take a dime from him...But it didn't make it right. Just like he'd said to him, Mike wasn't their father even if sometimes Merle wished that he was. This wasn't their home.

'Daryl...Stay out of this or go back upstairs, ya hear me?' He ordered.  
That shut him up but he still looked unhappy.  
'We can't stay here forever, free-loading from you. Ain't fair and we gotta face him sometime.' Merle pressed his point home.

'Well, that's up to you, son. Can't say that I won't miss ya about the place.' Mike replied easily. 'Come here, Daryl.'

Merle opened his mouth to protest but closed it again, thinking better of it and watched as the man patted the space next to him on the sofa and Daryl trotted over obediently. When he sat down, the man slung a paternal arm around him. Daryl looked so fucking small beside the big, brawny guy.

'I don't wanna go...Please don't make me...' Daryl looked up at the man entreatingly with his lower lip trembling, refusing to look at his brother.

'I know, Squirrel, I don't want you to go either.' Mike shrugged his shoulders at Merle who looked dumbstruck at the nickname before he turned back to his younger brother. 'But ya big brother's right, you can't stay here with me forever. I'm sorry, son. But you can always come over and visit whenever you need to.'

His tone was quietly resigned, yet if Merle didn’t know any better he thought he could see a small smile twisting his lips even though his voice was full of sorrow.  
But the only thing echoing in his head was that ridiculous name he called his brother and he blurted it out without a second thought in disbelief, ‘Squirrel??’

‘Yeah, those curious bright eyes and that brown unruly mop of a hair just reminds me of one. Not the first time I’ve called him that.’ He added with a grin, ruffling said hair. 

‘First time I heard you...’ Merle was careful to keep his voice and face neutral, he didn’t know why that bothered him as much as it did. It was just a silly nickname, and his brother didn’t seem to mind one bit. To make himself feel a bit better he reminded himself that they would be out of there and away from the guy soon enough.

Watching Daryl snuggle up to the large man so trustingly intensified the alarm bells already ringing in his head and the weird feelings kept roiling in his gut causing him to look away for a split second. But like a moth drawn to the flame, he found he couldn't take his eyes off them longer than that. In fact, it was more instinct that told him that he shouldn’t take his eyes off of them.

He shook his head, putting it down to his hangover because Merle knew his brother was a real cuddlebug. When Dad's not hurting him, he was the same with him, he thought sourly to himself. But something about this cute father and son tableau didn't sit right with him and the revelation of that cringe-worthy new nickname only managed to make him feel more uneasy. 

'Daryl, come here.' He snapped over at him a little too sharply.  
Daryl didn't answer of course, didn't move either. Well, that wasn't quite true – he snuggled further into Mike's side making Merle clench his teeth together.

Meanwhile, their father's best friend smiled up smugly at him and Merle had to hold back the sudden impulse to punch his arrogant face in.  
'Daryl!' He snapped at him, louder this time.

'Looks like he wants to stay here with me after all.' Mike crooned with self-satisfaction, now he was stroking one of his brother's bare arms gently and the stubborn little brat was leaning into it just like a poor affection-starved dog would have done down at the pound.  
'Don't ya?' The man whispered, and Merle could’ve sworn Mike tightened his arm around his brother just then. He was getting more creeped out by the minute and consequently found himself uncharacteristically lost for words.

'See?' Mike purred. 'He's happy with me. Do ya have to rush off so quickly - can't ya stay just a few more days?'

Merle could only stare when he never let up caressing his little brother’s arm. He wanted to tell Mike to lay off touching Daryl but found that the words wouldn't come out. He was practically choking on them.

Mike lowered his eyes then and for a moment his hand stopped its stroking to rest on Daryl’s shoulder. 'Truth is...ya see...since Chrissie left, it's...it's kinda been lonely.' He admitted bashfully and looked just like harmless old Uncle Mike again.

It was true - he knew that his last relationship with Chrissie the buxom blonde Walmart cashier hadn't lasted long but apparently they were still friends. Well, more fuck-buddies occasionally to tell the truth. That was what Mike had implied before when they had their last grown-up talk without Daryl in earshot.

There were the little things that caused Merle to doubt his eyes, not to mention his mind. Mike's need to show Daryl affection he could understand – it was clear that the kid needed it after the brutal battering he'd suffered recently and he'd had been there for them from the start, seen how severely beaten he’d been… It wasn’t so weird after all that Mike shouldered the role of a father-figure, somebody had to. He didn't have any kids himself, and he'd become like a second father to the both of them over the years. He had always been someone they could turn to when things got really bad at home.

Still, something told him that it was better to leave sooner rather than later.  
'Thanks for everything, Mike – really appreciate it but we've outstayed our welcome and we shouldn't impose any more after all...Better get goin'...Daryl – I said come here!' He ordered him again with even more of a bite this time to let his brother know he meant business, but instead of listening, the little shit kept right on disobeying him.

'You wanna go home right now instead? Why?' Mike's voice was full of disappointment meanwhile his eyes told a different story.

Merle felt like he was going crazy, or he would if he stayed with this man any longer. The constant u-turns in his behavior and the things he said that often didn't match up with what he did would have been confusing on a good day. Never mind one when he’d had a few shots too many the night before. But the fact that Mike continued to have his hands all over his eleven-year old brother like that was too much. Merle couldn't say why but he could sense the pure wrongness of it.  
'Shit!' He exclaimed suddenly and clapped his hands to his forehead. ‘I forgot there’s some stuff I need to help Dad with at home.’ Even he had to admit it was shoddy acting and he regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth but it was too late to turn back now. Mike would see through the lie straight-away but right then he couldn't think of what else to do. He only knew that he had to get Daryl out of there.

 

Merle knew he wasn't imagining things when their father's friend tightened his grip on his brother's arm so much when he said this that Daryl winced and let out a small yelp of surprise. That was the final straw and Merle immediately snapped out of the paralysed-like state he’d been in. Without giving it a second thought, he immediately strode over and yanked Daryl away from Mike.

Mike looked up at him in surprise and if Merle’s idiot hungover eyes didn’t fool him, he also looked slightly hurt: 'Now, why did ya go and do that for?'

'Cos you were fuckin' hurtin' him, that's why!' Merle yelled, keeping a tight grip on his little brother, forgetting the 'no swearing in front of Daryl rule' that their host had insisted on. They didn't have this rule back home and naturally Merle kept forgetting.

Mike's mouth went slack, his expression suddenly unreadable. ‘I didn’t mean to, ya know I adore you two boys. Jus' a reaction at the thought of ya leaving, I guess.’

He shrugged sheepishly but Merle barely heard him. One sentence clearly stood out and it was the only thing his mind apparently could focus on. "Adore you two boys?" The teenager repeated in his head while he was trying to make out the meaning behind the words, meanwhile Daryl had got over his own shock and was fighting and snarling at him, struggling to get free. 

Merle let out a breath of relief he didn't know he'd been holding now that Mike's big hand was no longer stroking Daryl's bare skin. Instead, he was back with him at his side whether Daryl liked it or not.  
The older brother's confusion grew, wondering why he was reacting this way, why he felt such relief the instant he'd got him away from the man who'd only showed them kindness since they got there. He didn’t have enough time to process all this when Daryl, determined to get out of his brother's grip, lashed out at him without warning with a well-aimed kick to the leg.  
‘Ouch! Ya little…!’

He cursed.

'Lemme go! I ain’t a baby, Merle! I'm tellin' ya it was nothin'!' His brother upped his voice in volume as he continued petulantly; ‘I said I wanna stay with Uncle Mikey!’ He followed that up by kicking out at him again like a spoilt brat but this time Merle was expecting it and dodged. He'd never acted this way before at home or never fought his big brother like this. Usually whatever Merle said, went.

'Stop it.' Merle shook him like he was an errant puppy.

When he took his eyes off his stubborn brother for a second to look up, Mike had that smugness on his face again that he didn't much care for, meaning he was up to something. Why had he never noticed that about his father's best friend before? How sly and arrogant he was?

'Look, I'm sorry, OK? Didn't mean to hurt little Squirrel over there.’ Mike shot off a small smile at Merle who failed to hide his grimace at the name in time. ‘And there's no need to rush off.' 

Merle sighed, it was obvious Mike wasn't about to give up on trying to persuade them to stay. 'You can see ya brother's happy to stay here a little while longer and I'm sure whatever urgent business that needs takin' care of at home can wait a few more days. Being away from ya dad is doing you good too, even though you're too proud to admit that.'

Merle stubbornly kept to his story, mind set on not giving in to Mike’s attempts to persuade him. 'With everything that’s been goin' on, it just slipped my mind and if I don't go back, we'll lose money we can't afford to lose. But thanks again for everything but it's about time we went home. I won't forget what ya did for us - letting us stay here… feedin’ us…- teaching Dad a lesson, I'm sure he's learnt it now.' Merle remembered his manners just in time while he frowned down at his baby brother who continued to bitch and whine that he didn't want to go home. But at least he'd stopped fighting to get free. No doubt after he realised that he was no match for his determined and totally creeped out big brother.

'No! I ain't goin' back!' Daryl finally screamed. 'And you can't make me!'

'Stop it.' Merle shook him and clamped his hand over his mouth. Now only muffled sounds of protest could be heard in the room.

‘Let's hope he's learnt it, huh? And there’s no need to thank me.' Mike carried on with his farewell speech and ignored the younger Dixon's outburst. 'Jus' remember that the both of you are always welcome here. Anytime.' Mike replied, watching Daryl's renewed attempts at resistance at this with amusement.

Daryl finally broke free from his brother with one last huge effort. 'Get off me, ya idiot! Said I ain't goin' back to him!' Daryl snarled, looking back wistfully at Mike who was just sitting there, making no move to help calm his brother down. But what pissed Merle off the most was that instead of telling him off for the foul language that came out of the mouth of a boy whose angelic face didn't match them, he sat right where he was, grinning.

'Wanna stay here.' He continued to gaze at the big man longingly but didn't approach him. 'Pleeze, Uncle Mikey. Pleeze…' He wheedled and pouted shamelessly up at the man.

‘Now you shut up.' Merle hissed at him, angry at his behavior because Dixons didn't beg...Dixons took what they wanted. He had let him go but he was ready to stop him if he made a run for it – probably back in the big man's arms judging by the puppy-dog looks Daryl was currently giving their 'Uncle'. His big brother knew that he could be as stubborn as an ox if thwarted.

"Get over here." Merle tried his best to soften his tone when he saw Daryl mirror his own look of confusion.

He reluctantly did as he was told, but predictably when Merle tried to turn him around to steer him towards the stairs, he didn't budge.

Meanwhile out of the corner of his eye, Merle could see Mike watching Daryl with amusement and it filled him with fresh anger at the man that he tried his hardest to not take out on his brother. Telling himself that it wasn't Daryl's fault, he was just a kid. Besides, he wasn’t sure himself what to make out of any of it, only knowing that he had to get them away, he pushed Daryl determinedly in front of him towards the stairs.

When Daryl refused again to move, Merle dragged him squirming and protesting up them and by the time they reached the top of the stairs he was out of breath with the effort. With a few quick strides they were back in ‘their’ room and he pushed him onto the bed before he closed the door behind them.

One thing you could say about Daryl was that he had a strong will when he had made up his mind about something.

Merle lost the battle with himself to not let the anger on his face show and this resulted in a flutter of fear crossing Daryl’s eyes briefly as he looked up at his older brother, even cowering back from him slightly.

Still, it didn’t take long before he straightened himself up and clenched his fists at his side, that signature petulant pout on his face again.  
'Said I like it here! There ain't any chores to do and I get to eat ice-cream every day and watch as much TV as I want!' 

He stomped his feet stubbornly on the carpet, his fear of the consequences forgotten as his eyes blazed in fury and Merle had to admire his little brother even if he was annoying the crap out of him at the same time.  
'Dad's sorry about what he did. He won't say it, but he is, I'm tellin' ya!'

That got him and he was silent for a few moments, mulling this over. Merle could see he was wavering before he started up yet again.  
'Yeah, maybe, but I still don't want to go home!'

The fact that he hadn’t given up made Merle groan in exhaustion as he gathered some of his own stuff that was sprawled out on the floor. 'Don't care what you want! Ain't important, so start packin'!'

'No! I wanna stay!'

Merle ignored that and grabbed him by the top of his arms and shook him roughly before he shoved him against the wall. 'I said pack ya things, now!'

'NO!' Daryl yelled back defiantly, unintimidated. Even if that look on his face minutes ago had told Merle that he feared that he was going to get punished for his bratty behavior, he was cocky now that he knew for sure his big brother wasn’t going to hurt him. That he wasn't going to get hit whatever he said or did. Of course the little shit also knew he was safe after what their Dad did to him a few weeks ago and this combined with the fact that he was still recovering from it made him even more restless and more of a handful than usual, Merle observed sourly to himself. To top it off, Mike had spoilt him rotten and given him anything he'd asked for but Merle planned to correct this after he got him home. Put him back firmly on the straight and narrow and teach him some respect.

'You boys OK up there?' Mike's voice drifted up the stairs, even through the closed door.

'We're fine!' Merle shouted back.  
'Pack!' He turned back to order him but drew back when Daryl cringed but still stood his ground.  
'Fine.' He shrugged more casually than he felt and packed for him, shoving his stuff carelessly into his bag and then he did the same for himself. 'Don't blame me if ya missin' somethin' when we get back.' He grumbled at him. He was only grateful that Daryl didn't try and run out of the door that he was deliberately partly blocking – he knew how his little brother's mind worked. Merle doubted that he would dare to try his luck when he knew how pissed he was at him.

Thankfully, Daryl just kept himself out of the way and stood in stubborn silence while he watched his brother gather up their meagre belongings which didn't take long. They'd left home in a hurry and neither of them had had that much to begin with.  
'Come on.' His older brother growled and grabbed him once more.

Merle got his brother and the two bags down the stairs somehow with Daryl struggling, clinging to the banisters and protesting all the way, calling him all the filthy insults under the sun.

Then they were out of the front door without even stopping to bid a final farewell to their host.  
If Merle had been a bit older and more experienced about such things, he might have understood why he didn't want Daryl to spend any more time with Mike. Sure, he'd had a lot of pussy for his age and all kinds at that – he'd started pretty early after all but there was still some things he remained blissfully innocent about.

Most of the time when he got wound-up like this there was a good reason behind it, and he ran on pure instinct. His intuition had never failed him in the past and it had saved him many times from Dad or a fatal stabbing in gang-fights.  
His little brother could squirm and fight him as much as he liked but he was no match for him, 16 and almost grown.

'Lemme go!' Daryl cried, frustration and all his shouting and screaming had made his voice hoarse.

'Would ya stop it already, goddamit?!' Merle hissed at him but Daryl didn't listen, not even when Merle opened the car-door and shoved him in. He was clearly on the verge of hysterics and the teenager didn’t see any other way out than to shake him again. 'You stop that right now, ya hear?'

'You can't tell me what to do!' The little brat screamed back at him from the passenger-seat.

'I'm older and bigger than you, so yes, I can!'

‘Can't! Uncle M--'

Merle cut him off in a hurry and with a growl he slammed the car-door shut and locked it for good measure as he walked around to the driver’s side. He didn't put it past the little bastard to run back to Mike the first chance he got but part of him understood why, of course he didn't want to go home. At least here there was no-one beating or whipping him with their belt and he didn't get yelled at for nothing. Or have cigarettes put out on him. The very opposite in fact- here, he was treated like a little prince.

Merle had time to feel the slightest stab of guilt for taking a good home life away from him but it rapidly vanished as soon as the recalled memory of Daryl in Mike's lap clouded his vision.  
The man with his big hands all over him, calling him ‘Squirrel’... It made him want to vomit -literally- but he didn't dwell on it and managed to gain control of himself.

He was shaken out of this unpleasant reverie by the noise behind him because even though he locked the door from the outside, the brat was trying the other door.  
'Don't you dare.' Merle kept his voice calm, but there was steel in it. He knew Daryl could read different tones, not to mention understand the meaning behind different words – when Merle was playing around, or when he was being deadly serious like now. What he meant this time roughly translated as: 'Keep on pushing me and I'll make you regret it.'

It was a last resort and he rarely used that weapon, Lord knows all kinds of threats were doled out at them enough at home as it was and his brother was used to them. But that didn’t stop Merle being grateful that the tactic had once again been successful as he observed how Daryl fell back and sat stock still in the backseat as if in shock. At least he was finally quiet.

Meanwhile, Mike had come to stand on his porch and wave them goodbye. Merle stared ahead rudely and studiously ignored him while Daryl returned his wave with enthusiasm until they were round the bend and out of sight of his house. Merle let out a shuddery sigh of relief but it didn't last long.

‘I hate you!' His brother hissed at him viciously as soon as the man was out of sight, narrowing his eyes at his back as he spoke.

The corners of Merle's mouth twitched upwards in a soft smile when he looked back at his furious, spunky little brother: "No you don't." He cooed.

"Do too!"

Merle chuckled despite himself. "Yeah? Don't worry, ya'll get over it.'

'Won't! Ever!' Daryl hissed back at him and crossed his arms over his chest as he slumped back against the seat in furious silence. But he couldn't keep it up for long.  
'I like Uncle Mikey – he's nice!' He reproached his big brother as he stared out of the car window.

Merle didn't react to this childish outburst other than turn his face away while he grimaced in disgust. Remembering the way the man had touched his baby brother. Thinking about it, he couldn't stop himself when the words seemed to trip over each other in his mouth to get out: 'Yeah, he likes you too.'

If Merle could have swallowed his own tongue whole, he would have right then. Daryl's questioning frown at him demanded an explanation and he thought as fast as his pounding hungover head allowed him. ‘Forget it, I was jus' jokin'.’ He laughed but even his own laughter sounded fake to his ears.

"What's wrong with him liking me back, Merle?' Daryl wasn't going to let up, demanding to know what he meant by it.

'It’s not that… He acts like ya father the longer we stay there.' He lied. 'I’m tellin' ya, it's not right what he's doing. You're not his.'

'Wish I was!'

'Daryl...'  
Yet the whole way back home he was wondering if he was crazy to take him back to Dad and leave the safety of Mike's. Maybe Daryl was right to hate him if he was wrong about their father and he got drunk and hurt him again.

Yet Merle just couldn't shake off the icy finger that had trailed down his spine whenever he dwelled upon how much closer Daryl and Mike had got during the short time they’d stayed there. Of course, this was mainly because he'd noticed that the man was touching his baby brother more and more the longer they stayed there...But like most things, he soon forgot about it after they got home, filing it away in his brain as not important.

 

Huge mistake.


	12. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Merle has insisted they go home despite Daryl's protests because he senses something odd about 'Uncle Mikey.' But he can't quite put his finger on what's wrong exactly.  
> Question is; have they just jumped from the frying pan into the fire to an even worse situation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love, let us have it!

Daryl took a step back to put some distance between him and his father but was careful enough not to make it look like he was deliberately hiding behind Merle.

He inhaled sharply when the door finally opened after what seemed to be an eternity and their proud dad in all of his six foot glory stood in the doorway. His eyes danced between them a few times before he broke the silence and if Daryl didn’t know any better, he even thought he saw his father's eyes tearing up. But that just couldn’t be, could it?

‘Well, don’t just stand there, you two. Get your asses inside! Missed ya two boys!’ He exclaimed and grabbed his older son in a bear-hug while Daryl watched them out of the corner of his eye, not liking what he saw. Something was wrong, but he didn’t dare to ask his brother in front of their Dad and mess things up when they were doing well so far. Their father seemed so happy to see them and he didn't want to do anything to spoil that and let things go back to the way they were.

But when Will reached down to Daryl to give him the same treatment, he backed away leaving his father waiting for a hug back that would never come and his arms closing on nothing but air.

Daryl knew that he’d screwed up big time and he didn’t need to see Merle looking at him slightly panicking and mouthing: ‘What the fuck?’ to realise that. Because he had specifically told him not to do anything to provoke their father, and upsetting him was the very first thing he did when they were reunited again.

But he must have looked downcast because seconds later Merle broke the tension by patting his back, telling him silently not to worry.

Their father looked hurt as well as surprised but in the end, just shrugged his shoulders. 'Fine, I guess I’ll give ya that one, can't be easy for ya to trust me,' and just like that Daryl found it easier to breathe again.

The smell of delicious cooking hit their nostrils when they stepped inside, making the older brother at least forget his worries for the time-being as his face lit up at the promise of food. He immediately disappeared into the kitchen - he was shooting up in height and unlike his younger sibling, was always hungry.

Daryl almost felt his heart drop in his chest to be left alone with dad not one minute after returning home, when Merle had promised him that wouldn’t happen, at least until he'd made absolutely sure that everything was OK. Part of him expected to be punished for the rude thing he’d just done even if his Dad had seemed understanding about it. 

However, Merle must have sensed his distress because he popped his head around the corner of the kitchen door and excitedly urged him to come to him with an eager wave of the hand.

But Daryl stayed where he was with Dad- afraid to offend him again but found himself surprised for the second time in less than ten minutes when he just smiled at him ruefully. 

'Guess I can't blame ya for bein' a little skittish around me after what I did.’  
Merle drew back in shock and went pale when he heard their father refer to the beating, no matter how indirectly, it was still very dangerous territory. 

Daryl glanced at his brother again for direction and saw that he was trying to get his attention, passing him significant looks and knew that he was probably feeling nervous about what he would say or do. Especially when he had made such a bad start by cowering back like he’d done and it wasn't that weird that Merle was itching to speak for him, to not risk him saying the wrong thing to annoy their Dad.  
So, instead of doing or saying anything, he kept his mouth shut and just looked at his father.

Then Will shocked them both when he crouched down to Daryl’s level to gently tilt his chin up so that their eyes met. ‘I'm sorry, son, I promise it'll never happen again. I was too hard on ya.'

Merle let out a deep breath at the same time that Daryl did at that, but at least it cleared the air a little. Their father had taken the bull by the horns this time and actually said that he was sorry - in front of Merle too. They just both hoped he actually meant it this time.  


Will straightened up as Daryl just settled on nodding, clearly still afraid of making things more awkward by opening his mouth.

'It's gonna take time, Dad.' Merle tried to explain and smooth things over more.

'I know.' The head of the Dixon family looked down at the floor for a moment before he put on his cheerful face back on.

'Come on. Made somethin' for ya to eat. I made more food than I could eat almost every day you weren't here so that if by chance you did show up, there would be something for ya. Freezer's well-stocked up for once anyway.' He guffawed at that one before he continued but his boys were too surprised to join in the laughter.

'Ain't done it for the last four days though, but I had a feeling in my bones when I woke up today that you two were coming home and here ya both are... How's that for good timin', huh?' He led the way to the kitchen not waiting for a response from his sons who at the moment were too stunned to speak.

Merle tilted his head in their dad’s direction, silently urging Daryl to say something in return since it was clear that Will wanted a response from him to show that everything was somewhat all right again between them. 

Daryl nodded to show that he got the message, even at the age of eleven he had no problem feeling the tension in the air hanging thick between all three of them. But then it came to him what he needed to do, even though his stomach was roiling and he wasn't really all that hungry, he tried to show some interest in the food. 

After all, their Dad had gone to a lot of effort for them and he should show some appreciation.  
'What did ya cook, Dad? Smells delicious.'

'Ya favourite, son. Deer steak and fries.' And that was the end of that, and soon all three of them were sitting down at the table.

At first the conversation was stilted and awkward, but gradually they became more relaxed with each other, alternating between taking bites and sitting in easy silence as they enjoyed the meal.

Daryl ate as much as he could but failed to finish the huge plate of piled up food that had been laid out in front of him. 

It was odd how a few new habits trumped old ones when for a split second he forgot he wasn’t at Mike’s anymore where he could stop eating whenever he felt like it. A place where nobody minded if he couldn't clear his plate and the whole word seemed to pause suddenly when he put his knife and fork down.

Merle, who had been eating with his mouth full while talking as usual, even let up stuffing his face. His eyes were open in obvious alarm and he looked like he was about to choke on his food. Meanwhile, Daryl looked over at his Dad anxiously, checking for any signs of anger.

But instead of receiving a stinging slap to the face like he half-expected, Will just smiled down at him.

'That's OK, Daryl. I probably put too much on ya plate...Here, give it to Merle. Sure ya can use some more, hey, boy?'

Merle grinned in relief at the danger blowing over without any reverting to old behavior on part of their father. Without a moment's hesitation, he reached over and grabbed Daryl's plate, putting what remained on his almost empty one.

After dinner, they went to the living-room where their father immediately put on the TV and handed out one cold beer to Merle and a coke to Daryl. Luckily, it was Saturday night and there was a good action movie on with GI's fighting a war in some tropical jungle country. They sat in comfortable silence up until during the commercial breaks, where Will would try and ask them about their time at Mike's.

Daryl clearly grew uneasy at this and looked at his big brother again for guidance wondering if he would reveal that Mikey had been angry enough at their father that he hadn’t told them that he had called.  
But Merle didn't.

Their dad turned to Daryl next, directing his questions to the one boy, who at that moment wasn’t lost in his thoughts.

'Did he take care of ya boys, Daryl? Looks like he did and I know he patched ya up real good. I wanted ya home sooner – kept calling to ask how ya were but ...’

Daryl could tell Merle had snapped out of his thoughts then as he stared intently at their father. This cut Will off as he finished simply: ‘I couldn't get through.'

Daryl saw Merle narrow his eyes at this and seemed about to open his mouth to say something but closed it instead, thinking better of it.

‘How was it really, you two boys sure stayed there long enough, huh?’ Dad's tone was a little sharper now.

Daryl opened his mouth and must have done so with an expression that Merle didn’t like. He probably looked too eager, and he immediately tried to tone his enthusiasm down a couple of notches. He knew what worried Merle was if he said something hinting at how nice it had been at Mike’s, Dad got jealous easy.

Meanwhile, his big brother gave Daryl sharp, warning looks over their dad’s shoulder and clearly was holding his breath in suspense as he waited for him to answer.

But Daryl was a smart kid, he understood what his brother was trying to tell him and was intent on not saying the wrong things. Even if it meant being a little dishonest. He didn't have the guile to lie usually and he was open (sometimes too open) with his thoughts and feelings. That was what got him in trouble most of the time, particularly where their Dad was concerned.

'It was ...OK.' Daryl shrugged and said it matter-of-factly like it was no big deal and stared at the screen that was back to showing the movie that none of them were really watching. 'He was...good to us.' He admitted almost reluctantly.

Daryl looked over, unsure of how he did. Merle apparently was pleased with this answer as he nodded approvingly and leaned back some, finally relaxing a little.

The other dangerous topic – the revenge beating that Mike had given their father- was not mentioned by either of the older Dixons during the evening either.

'Better go to bed now, Daryl.' Will suddenly announced after they'd chatted and caught up with each other for some time.

Daryl heard his father telling him this from faraway. He knew he was dozing off and despite his attempts to keep himself awake, he was nodding against his big brother's shoulder. Merle had put himself in between them and Daryl knew he had done it deliberately.

'Go on, now, Daryl. Me and Merle got some talkin' to do.' Dad's tone was a little more impatient now and he knew that he shouldn't stay.

‘Come on, little brother, up ya get.’ His brother nudged him.

He slowly got up, even though the prospect of lying in his own bed after so long suddenly felt very welcoming. He yawned and mumbled as he rubbed his eyes: 'Night, Merle. Night, Dad.' 

He was about to skirt past their father, giving him a wide berth but Will had anticipated this and grabbed him before he could. Daryl didn’t have time to react – that was to stop himself from tensing up, as Merle beside him followed suit.

'Now, now don't be like that. Said I was sorry.' Will crooned and wound his arms around him soothingly but Daryl couldn’t bring himself to relax.

'Dad...' Merle started, half getting up from his seat. ‘Don’t push him.’ He warned.

'It’s all right. Jus' wondered where my goodnight hug was, that was all.' 

When Will whispered this in Daryl's ear was what finally broke his paralysis. He finally turned around and wrapped his arms loosely around their dad’s neck and felt his father's lips press lightly against his hair in return. It was all OK now, he thought to himself with relief, dad hugging him like this showed him that he really was sorry.

'That's it.' He was beaming now as Daryl untangled himself from him. 'Go up to bed now, boy. Way past ya bedtime, see you in the mornin'.'

'See ya, Merle.'

'Don't let the bedbugs bite, little brother.'

**

Meanwhile, Mike was looking around his living room, suddenly struck by how lonely and empty it looked. Not to mention shabby. He badly missed his boys (so he'd started calling them secretly.)

On most days, he thought bitterly, his friend didn't deserve those boys– especially Daryl, who for all his sassy behavior and dirty mouth, was a good kid deep down. He knew all too well how Will was on his bad days, a violent drunk who treated them like shit. For a moment he thought how lucky Daryl was to have Merle because one thing was for sure – he did love that baby brother of his, probably more than life itself.

He hadn't been fooled by Merle's transparent excuse for their rapid exit...he wondered if he should have been more cautious around the older boy... toned down the affection until when big brother wasn't around. Apparently he wasn't as naïve as he seemed.

He also knew how protective Merle was of Daryl, he'd seen many times how he was with him and he should’ve been smarter. Not that he planned to ever go further with Daryl... He didn't have anything to hide - Mike knew he wasn't sick like that. Mike sighed when he remembered how quickly Merle had pulled Daryl off him when he'd merely gripped him too hard by accident. 

Yet it had seemed like more of an opportunity Merle had been looking for to get Daryl away from him, Mike. When they’d left, he couldn't help but think about how ungratefully he thought Merle was behaving after all he had done for them...But then he couldn't really blame him if he had an inkling about his true feelings for his baby brother. If he himself were in Merle’s shoes, if he knew the thoughts running through his head, he'd kill him in a heartbeat. No looking back – no regret even if he hadn't yet acted on them.  
And Mike wouldn't blame him if he did.

He nursed his glass of whiskey and let himself dwell on the younger Dixon boy now that he was alone....tried to recall the feel of his silky dark hair under his fingers, his smooth skin under his hand...

Most of the time when Daryl was close-by, he could control himself, but the one time he had slipped was when the boy had been sitting in his lap. Had just planted himself there for a cuddle without even asking first and Mike had eagerly obliged at first...until he felt the change. Daryl hadn’t exactly done anything. But having him on top of him like that and being affectionate had stirred Mike’s dick to attention, and at first he had been horrified. But in the end he had just laughed it off, ignoring it, relieved that Daryl was too innocent to understand. At the same time, he prayed that the kid wouldn’t cotton on and might guilelessly tell Merle about the weird thing that happened while sitting in uncle Mikey's lap. The teenager would put two and two together pretty quickly.

Without a second thought, he slipped into his study where he kept his dark secret carefully hidden from the world.

**

The next day everything went better at the Dixons'. Daryl was less nervous around Will, he felt safe enough that he didn’t even freak out when Merle told them he was going out to buy some smokes.

Merle was less worried too about leaving him with Dad when he closed the door to the house and was walking as quickly as he could to the nearest store. He still didn't quite fully trust their father alone with Daryl for too long and besides, the long walk gave him time to think.  
He almost felt like he was split two ways with one half of him wondering if he should come clean about Mike deceiving them even if it did stir up the hornet's nest. 

Mike had been real good to them, and there was their dad who was really trying to keep his temper under control this time around and trying to make amends. So, naturally Merle feared that telling their father everything about how Mike had lied to them and tried to keep them apart would completely ruin everything. There was no point. Not when their Dad and his best friend were on warmer terms now even if they were not completely thawed yet. 

Mike had forced him to face up to what he'd done to Daryl but it had been a good thing, hadn't it? Because now their Dad didn't lay so much as a finger on him anymore, never as so much raised his voice at him and was acting like the old Dad Merle remembered when he was Daryl's age and their Mama was still around.  


Merle hoped that the memories his brother had of her were one's where she was still on her feet and clear in her head, rather than the drunk she became. They rarely spoke about her, their Dad least of all. Her face before the drinking took over came to Merle's mind then and he smiled before his expression grew serious again. He needed to think about the problem at hand, that was what to do about Mike.

Yet, whatever he'd done for them, Merle couldn't overlook the chill he got from looking at him and his brother together and he had to remind himself that the important thing was that they'd gotten away from him. Merle’d managed to have it out with him before they left to let him know that he wasn't happy about him trying to drive a wedge further between them and their father. To keep them there. No doubt it only had been because he'd got so used to having them around and some misplaced notion of protecting them that caused Mike to act the way he did…

As for all the touching Daryl, the man had admitted that he was lonely after his wife died, he was probably regretting that he hadn't had any kids himself.

Sometimes Daryl was the one to seek affection, Merle had seen it more than once wIth Mike and even with Dad but had said nothing. He'd just gone over to where Mike was sitting on the sofa, and snuggled close without asking. After all, there was no reason for Daryl to think twice about doing something like that around Mike. Merle was almost able to convince himself that he’d imagined the weird feelings he'd gotten from watching them together. When the vision of Mike and Daryl on the sofa flashed in his mind almost like it was taunting him, Merle pushed it aside. Explained it away by the fact that he wasn’t used to such extreme displays of affection right in front of his face like that. That must be it and that he was being overprotective as usual.  


Finally, just before he turned to go into the convenience store, he decided to drop the whole thing, at least for the time being and let sleeping dogs lie. That didn't mean that he wouldn't be watching Mike with his brother carefully like a hawk from now on, though.

**

Soon after Merle left, Daryl tripped down the stairs and poked his head around the living-room door and spotted Dad sitting on the sofa with his usual glass of whiskey set out in front of him. 

Expert in reading his father’s facial expressions, Daryl could tell he was in a good mood and didn’t think twice when Will caught sight of him in return and beckoned him over. He patted his lap, motioning for him to sit. In fact, Daryl felt no fear or apprehension at all and it was almost like it used to be with his father when their Mama was still around.

'Come here son, let me talk to ya for a bit.'  


Yet he failed to relax completely as he planted himself in his dad’s lap, but managed not to not flinch as Will brushed back the hair that was covering his eyes.  
'Ya really need a haircut. It's getting' long...don't want ya goin' round lookin' like a little pansy fag.'

The words was harsh but Daryl felt more reassured when his father started to chuckle, immediately taking the sting out of them.

Daryl gave a small smile and relaxed even as his father put his arms around him.  
'Now, tell me...How was it really at Uncle Mike's? He treat ya good?'

'Yes, Dad.’

‘Come on, son. Ya gotta give me more than that. You spent more than two weeks over at Mike’s.’

Daryl chewed at his lower-lip not really sure how to continue. He didn’t want to risk hurting his dad by saying how nice it’d been, but not answering would surely make him angry instead. After a second's deliberation, he decided that the first option was way better, an upset dad he could at least talk to, explain what he meant. An angry one wouldn’t listen, he would hit and ask questions after.

He tilted his chin up determinedly to meet his father’s eyes, thinking it was best to show that he wasn’t scared, more chance he would be believed that way. ‘We had a great time – he took me huntin' once and we even went fishin' and cooked our own fish for dinner!' He blurted out enthusiastically.

His father frowned at that and Daryl quickly backtracked, and lost all the courage he had previously felt. 'But it ain't the same like with you and Merle...' He paused and considered quickly what would make his father happy. 'I wanted to come back home the whole time,' he lied. 

That thankfully seemed to do the trick when the annoyance left his father's face.  
'Good. 'Cos I missed ya too...Always worryin' how ya were gettin’ on...If...if ya were in a lot of pain after...after...'

Daryl was careful not to finish his father’s sentence, there would probably be a very unpleasant outcome if he did.  
Instead of continuing, Will turned away, as if unable to finish and settled on planting a kiss to Daryl’s temple to show all what he couldn’t say before he buried his face in his son’s hair. 'I'm real glad to have ya back – both of you under my roof, safe and sound is all I wanted to say.'

'Me too. But...but...' Daryl stopped himself mid-sentence, not sure whether he should say what was on his mind or not.

'Go on.' Will nodded encouragingly at him.  
'Come on, boy. Spit it out, whatever it is.'

But Daryl continued to hesitate. Merle hadn't mentioned how it had been, truth was Merle had only spoken of Mike when it was necessary, keeping his answers short when dad tried to find out more. Daryl knew he probably should do the same. But he couldn’t when he saw that his dad was looking curiously at him, no trace of impatience in sight so he dared to continue.  
'When ya didn't even call us after two weeks, I...I thought ya didn't care no more. That ya really meant to chuck us out...'

'No...never...!' Dad was aghast. 'Well..., I tried but Mike told me that neither of ya wanted to speak to me and I couldn't blame either of you after what I did...Thought it best to give ya some space like he told me to...'

Daryl frowned. 'Yeah...We found out 'bout that, but he said he was jus' protectin' us.'

'Guess I can't blame him.' Will answered evenly but his fists were clenched at his sides. Daryl noticed and flinched back a little.  
'It's alright son.' He patted his back reassuringly.

But Daryl could tell that it wasn't alright at all.  
'Dad?'

'What, Daryl?'

Trying to save the situation, Daryl brushed his father’s cheek with his hand before he asked his question: 'Did he beat ya up bad? Merle wanted to come and check up on ya...'

He hesitated a little before he started to laugh, shaking his head. 'Nah, it ain't nothin' for you to worry about. Jus' some grown-up stuff. We jus' had a little scrap is all...Believe me, I gave as good as I got.'

'Good. I was out of it so I didn’t really hear when Mike got back…’

His dad hissed at that, and Daryl immediately felt guilty for bringing it up. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I shouldn't have...' He looked at him unsure, anxiety shining through every pore.

Will ruffled his hair and looked a bit happier when he didn't draw back this time.  
'Stop babbling, son. Said it's OK, boy.'  
Just then the phone rang and Daryl leapt off him, typically quick on his feet these days to answer it, making his father frown because he knew the reason why.

'Uncle Mikey!' Daryl exclaimed joyfully but curbed his enthusiasm when he thought he heard his father groan with irritation from the next room. 

However, he soon forgot all about it as he got swept up with chatting happily, telling Mike about his day and answering his concerned questions.  


However, he found himself interrupted in mid-sentence when his Dad suddenly appeared next to him.  
'Daryl – go upstairs.' He ordered before taking the phone away from him.

Daryl looked at him in surprise but did as he was told, looking back curiously over his shoulder as he left for the stairs, planning on staying in earshot.  
'Told ya to get up there, boy!' His father said a little more sharply as if he read his mind.

Daryl didn’t need to be told twice, and was soon at the top of the stairs before hiding himself from his dad’s line of vision just where the wall rounded at the top of the stairs. Like always, he could hear his dad loud and clear from where he was.

'Why did ya tell me that my sons didn't want to speak to me? Ya could at least have told them that I called to see how Daryl was doin'! Ain't right of you to have done that. He thought I didn’t care about him. Proud of yourself, are ya?'

There was a lengthy pause, Daryl knew that Mike had a way with words and although he couldn't hear, he knew that he would be doing his best to calm his Dad down. Yet he could see why his dad was angry, and didn't really understand himself why Mike had kept Dad's calls from them, not letting them speak to him. But he must have done it to help. Mike had told Merle that shortly before they left, Daryl remembered it clearly. Merle had sounded pretty much like dad did now, only difference was that dad sounded angrier.

'Ya want my boys for yourself, that it?' His voice rose in volume, making Daryl flinch even if he was out of harm’s way  
and his fathers rage wasn't being directed at him. 'Couldn't have any of your own so ya tried to steal mine instead, that it?'

Daryl winced at the low blow during the short pause that followed before his Dad started yelling again. He wondered where the hell Merle had got to, he said he was only going out for five minutes to buy something but it had been a hell of a lot longer than that.

'Don't ya ever get between me and mine, ya hear! You do it again and I'll end ya, and us being friends won’t mean shit.' Will slammed down the phone and stomped off to the kitchen and Daryl just knew he was going to pour himself a new glass of whiskey to make himself feel better.

After a few minutes when his dad called for him, he pretended he'd been in his room all along by opening the door and shutting it loudly before he went downstairs. His dad was sitting where he’d been before the phone-call came.

‘Come here, I still wanna talk to ya. He interrupted our talk.’ His tone was more brusque this time, making Daryl feel unnerved and wondering again where his brother was. He always felt safer when he was around and he didn't dare to disobey when his father patted his lap again.  
Soon he felt his arms around him like before, but tighter this time.  
‘Dad…’

‘Yeah, what is it?’ Dad's stubble tickled his cheek and he got a whiff of the cheap whiskey he usually drank.

‘Are you and Uncle Mikey not friends anymore?’

There was a pause again, his father looking deep in thought, but he found himself quickly when Daryl didn’t avert his eyes.  
He sighed before he answered: ‘Sure we are. I don’t blame him for protecting you boys, I admit I was out of line. But what pisses me off is that he lied to ya about me not callin' you. Meanin' that all that time you thought I didn’t give a shit about ya...that I wasn't sorry for what I did. I can only imagine how angry Merle was at me.’

Daryl thought it best to stay silent and let his dad vent instead of keeping it all in and waited patiently for him to continue.

‘It’s obvious he cares about you boys like you were his own...He’s always been like that. For all the shit he did wrong not telling you the truth, Mike did take you in giving you a roof over your heads and then some. But it’s below the belt is what it is, trying to tear us apart like that.’

‘I don’t think he’ll do that again, dad. He knows he did wrong, he told Merle all about it.’

Daryl heard his father's sharp intake of breath. ‘He did, did he? I wonder why Merle didn’t bring it up with me when you got back home… Oh, well. I’ll have a proper talk with Mike when things calm down some. Now let’s just sit here and relax, what do you say to that, huh?’

Relieved, Daryl nodded, conversations like this with Dad always seemed like the third degree or a test he had to pass. Now it was all over. As time went, they talked some more about other mundane stuff, and Daryl was happy Dad didn’t bring up Mike again. Constantly being on the alert for it though made him sleepy, and it didn’t take too long before his head was nuzzled against his father’s neck as sleep claimed him for its own.  


He woke up to the sound of his father nervously clearing his throat, and just like that he was wide awake and alert, worried he’d done something wrong.

Then he felt it. Something hard was poking against his backside and somehow he knew not to ask about it, despite the blush that crept up his dad’s face making him unsure what to do. He'd never seen him like this before. So nervous, embarrassed even. Despite his innocence he easily could tell the difference in his dad’s body-language now, to what it had been when he’d first sat down in his lap. To him, his Dad had turned into a statue beneath him and usually when he tensed up like that it was time for Daryl to plan his escape. Worse, something told him that Merle still wasn't back and desperate not to wake the sleeping beast, he mimicked the frozen body beneath him and sat stock still.  
‘Dad, what did I do?’

‘You just moved wrong, was all. Jus' stay still for a minute.’ Daryl complied, silently wondering if he’d shifted wrong in Uncle Mikey’s lap too.


	13. Precautions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has been caught out with Daryl in an awkward position, what is he going to do? Does Mike also still have feelings for Daryl and what is he going to do about them? Poor Daryl, both men including his own father want him! We only hope that they don't decide to take it further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember comments and kudos are love....Thanks for reading!

Will was really trying to keep his voice from being raspy and scaring his small son further. He didn’t even sound like himself to his own ears and he could only imagine how weird he must sound to Daryl. He cleared his throat again nervously but then his son’s eyes found his again. But the boy said and did nothing. No doubt he was too scared to get off him after he'd been told to stay put.

For the first time since the words left his mouth, Will wondered if he’d made the wrong decision. It would’ve been easier to just pretend that nothing weird was happening and send his son up to bed. But it was too late for that now, after he'd made a big deal out of it. He had hoped that Daryl would leave it at that, but he could tell by his pitifully confused expression that he was desperately waiting for some kind of explanation.

What better time than now to teach him about the birds and the bees? That was if that damned randy brother of his hadn't got there first. Because despite his rough environment, Will knew his youngest boy had strangely remained relatively innocent.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but that was one of the main attractions about him. In contrast, Will was unable to recall Merle ever being innocent, that boy came out of his mother's womb with a filthy mind and mouth to go along with it. Most disturbing of all was that one of his reoccurring fantasies was how he would teach Daryl all about it – ease him in to things, so to speak.

But Will knew he would never act on them, he'd die before he let that happen. So, just like he always did, he savagely suppressed the images of Daryl's face wearing a more knowing expression as he took his innocence slowly away, to a deep corner of his mind. He’d vowed to himself long ago never to cross that line. But his own sick mind refused to stop torturing him. Fortunately, neither of his boys sensed his true feelings that made him feel sick every time he allowed himself to indulge in whimsical wondering where Daryl came onto him first. That he was somehow sensing his desire. More than that, he was willing, trusting his father to be his first, to teach him, guide him…

Will shook his head to clear it of the alluring visions this particular train of thought led to. He would never be one of those that lost his inner battle. Only monsters do that to their sons...

He cursed himself mercilessly as his relentless thoughts naturally did nothing to help him with his embarrassing problem.

‘Dad?’ Daryl was tugging on his sleeve timidly, looked up at him with questions seething in his eyes. ‘What did you just say? Are you OK?'

‘Nothin’ for you to worry about. I'm fine.’ Will realised with shock that he had been muttering his thoughts. Daryl hadn't heard him or understood, thank God.

He knew full well that he couldn’t explain anything away now, so instead of wasting time thinking of the best lie to tell him, he thought of the best way to tell the truth without scaring him.

'It...it happens to men sometimes and when ya older, ya'll understand.' He whispered and flushed deep scarlet as the words left his mouth. But Daryl only looked back at him with his mouth hanging open in surprise. He still didn't really understand what he was getting at after all. Will failed to hold back the little smile of indulgence he directed at his son, because Daryl was still just as clueless and innocent. This realisation made him let go of the breath he’d been holding in.

'Can't help it, but it don't mean it's got anythin' to do with you, son.' He reassured him.

'What do you mean?' Daryl's eye-brows rose quizzically and he reached over to touch his cheek in concern.

'I'm alright.' He whispered even as he grabbed Daryl’s wrist to stop him just in time. Fearing that one more touch as unassuming as that would be enough to send him right over the edge.

At the same time, Will's heart had nearly burst in his chest because Merle had never been sweet like this. Even at 11, he would have known something was very wrong and he’d have run away like a shot, without waiting for an explanation. Not that Merle would have been sitting in his father’s lap to begin with. He hadn't been that kind of boy and Will had consequently treated him as such. But Daryl was different. He took after his mother.

'It's like when ya wet the bed, I guess. Jus' an accident ya can't help or really stop yourself from doin'.' He patiently explained, acting more calm than he felt. It was clear that he still didn't understand, and Will feared that if he kept on trying to explain, he would inevitably say too much.

'Better get off me now, Daryl. Time for bed.'

When he didn't move, without warning, as if his son was burning him, Will shoved him off his lap and immediately grabbed a cushion to hide his erection while his son's back was turned. Daryl was so caught off guard that he almost tumbled to the floor before catching himself in time.

'I’m sorry, son but we shouldn't do this no more...No more sittin' in my lap like this.' He could hear his own breathing was laboured now, he was practically panting, he noted with self-disgust. Then, noticing Daryl's hurt expression as he looked at him, Will added, 'Eleven's too old for coddlin' anyway. Ya a big boy now.'

'Dad, I don’t understand. You never had a problem with it before…' His eyes lighted briefly on the cushion his father was holding in front of him like a shield. Or like a barrier between them.

Will sighed when his youngest continued to linger and look worried, with no fear on his face. He still hadn't taken the hint and made no move to leave.

'Go on, go up to bed, I said!' He snapped. Daryl flinched back at his raised voice, probably expecting to get hit like in the bad old days. 

Despite his attempts, Will was unable to keep his voice steady and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that it made Daryl uncomfortable to hear his father sound so unsure of himself. Especially when he didn’t understand what the problem was to begin with.

Will watched him finally leave without any protests after that though, and sighed with relief because he could finally take a breather. He tossed the cushion aside as he looked down at himself in self-loathing, cursing his treacherous body. The worst was that his own son was the cause of it, which was sick to begin with. He stifled a groan as he waited for the distinct click of Daryl shutting the door up on the second floor.

As soon as he heard it, he leaned back and took himself out. He couldn’t help but to stare down at his dick which was in the firm grip of his hand. Was the hard-on as big as this when Daryl had been sitting in his lap? He sure hoped not.

Then a thought reared its ugly head that almost made his heart skip a beat. What if he told Merle? Even if he let it slip innocently as something funny that had happened while he was sitting on Dad's lap, it would be a disaster. His other son would know exactly what had happened.

His thoughts went round and round in circles until the growing pleasure took over and he was able to solely focus on just jerking off as his hand and body let go of the inhibitions his stubborn mind was trying to put on him.

After he came with a heart heavy with guilt, he promised himself not to let them sit like that again, that it was probably for the best to put some distance between them. The kid was growing up now anyway and he swore that he would never let anything like that happen again.

Being all caught up in his younger son he had forgotten about his oldest who thankfully chose his time to return back home not when Will was in the living room pleasuring himself, but when he was behind the safety of four walls which the bathroom offered him while taking a shower.

** 

Nearly a week went by and Will could only hope that the boy had forgotten all about it. When the day finally came when Daryl climbed up in his lap all excited from a successful hunting trip he’d taken all on his lonesome, he didn't have the willpower to push his son off like before. 

It felt so good to be close to him that Will decided he'd let it go, just this once, he told himself. Also, there was the fact that whenever he lavished affection on Daryl, somehow doing this also made Will feel better about things. More relaxed. It calmed him down to the point where he was less likely to get angry and lash out. Being close to Daryl did him a lot of good and that was a comforting thought.

At the same time, he was no fool. He knew that he was in big trouble as he slowly came to realize that he was becoming addicted to his own son.

***

A few more days passed after the embarrassing incident which Will had successfully put to the back of his mind but hadn't forgotten. Would never forget in fact and he thanked his lucky stars that Daryl and Merle were as different as night and day. 

Yet, he was still being careful around him to avoid situations where there was a possibility of him losing control of himself either violently or in other, much worse ways. But that didn’t mean he stopped ruffling Daryl’s hair or slinging a casual arm about him when they sat in front of the TV on the sofa. Just as it didn't stop him from smiling with satisfaction each time his son nestled into his side. It was much safer that way.

He managed to hold off losing his temper with great effort but as time went by, it got more and more difficult. Especially when he was constantly getting turned on by and in front of his son, it was straining their relationship to put things mildly. So, to counter this, he started drinking more whiskey and other hard stuff instead of just beer.

The revelation about Mike certainly didn’t improve Will’s temper any better and he was still nursing his grudge like a bear with a sore paw, even after all this time. Had he really tried to steal his sons away from him by lying to them?

Surely not. He had only lied to protect them...but Will reckoned that he probably had deserved most of it - even if they actually had refused to speak to him. Most of all he deserved getting the crap beaten out of him after what he did to Daryl. He hadn't been as drunk as he pretended...

He'd let Mike get away on some level with the lies, which wasn’t like him at all, but Will had been horrified at what he'd done to Daryl...That was when he sobered up enough to remember what had happened.

Will grit his teeth to repress his snarl when he heard Merle greet Mike on the phone. No doubt he wanted to come over and bring drinks, try and buy his forgiveness. Things were still strained between them but that didn't stop Mike trying to get at him through his sons. His irritation only increased when Daryl's pleas to his brother to let him speak to him reached his ears.

Did Daryl love his friend more than him? Listening to his excited reaction, it seemed that he did.

Will just settled on clenching his fists and filed away his grievance for later.

'No, he says he's got to go. Next time.' Merle told his brother and Will's eyebrows rose in surprise.

'Why?' Daryl whined before he put the phone down.

Will turned around in time to watch the silhouette on the wall of his eldest shrug. This had happened a lot recently – Mike calling outwardly to check up on Daryl but then making excuses not to speak to him. Or cutting him off short as soon as he could if Daryl was the one who answered his call.

This pleased him, even though witnessing how disappointed Daryl was each time it happened got to him sometimes. He could only hope that Mike finally realised that he had stepped on Will’s toes by getting so close to them both, taking over like that. Daryl was his son after all and belonged to him.

**

'Why won't he ever talk to me?' Will heard Daryl ask Merle while they were in the kitchen sharpening their hunting-knives on the special block. He turned the volume of the TV down to eavesdrop on them, he was wondering how Merle would answer this question.

'Cos ya a kid and an annoyin' little brat.' He teased.

The big brother's reply made Will smile, it was very typical Merle. Usually that type of answer would spark a fiery comeback from his youngest but seeing as he was quiet, Will could only imagine how crestfallen his little face must look. He was probably right too as Merle obviously felt the need to try to explain in a more serious manner this time. 

'Guess things are still awkward between him and Dad...Remember, he hasn't come around since we got back and Dad still refuses to speak to him.'

'Is it my fault? Did I do somethin' wrong?'

'What? No! Why would you think that?'

'I must have done something to make him not want to talk to me.’ In his mind, Daryl worried that maybe he did wrong to try and sit in Mike’s lap, Dad had told him not to sit in his even though he did forget about the new rule at times. Him sitting in someone's lap had been when the funny thing happened both times. Besides, something warned him not to mention either events to Merle.

‘I bet he’s just busy, that's all.'

’He still got time to call....’

In the other room Will wondered the same thing – he switched the volume completely off to properly follow how the conversation developed.

‘Hell if I know, little brother. He’s weird sometimes…’

Will could hear the frustration in Daryl’s sigh but Merle quickly changed that and continued to save the day by saying: 'OK, I’ll say it so you don't throw a fit later... Uncle Mike said he's gonna come around later and watch the game if it's OK with Dad.'

'Do ya think he'll let him? Can I watch too?'

He was practically jumping up and down in excitement, causing an involuntary smile to appear in Will’s face. Maybe he would relent – surely Mike knew his lesson by now and besides, he'd missed him. Their friends had been around asking where he was and given Will funny looks when he didn't answer and it just wasn't the same without him. Mike was the life and soul of any party and dare he say it – the most intelligent out of the bunch of drinking buddies.

'Don't get ya hopes up too soon. Dad will probably say no... but yeah, sure. I doubt they'll let ya drink any beer, though.'

‘Very funny, Merle. I hope he’ll talk to me this time.’

‘It's kind of hard for him not to when you’re in the same house and jumpin' all over him as soon as he gets through the door, ya little idiot.’

Again, silence. Even Merle noticed that his joke had stung his baby brother.

‘Look don't worry about it so much. I bet him and Dad are only gonna talk about boring grown-up stuff. Like the stupid letter my maths teacher Rogers sent him. He's a fuckin' creep-tard, I hate him.' 

‘What? A teacher sent ya a letter? What for?’ Will smiled proudly to himself. What had Merle done now?

'He...' Merle cleared his throat sounding uncharacteristically nervous and his father knew that he was holding back the details for his brother's sake. Trying his best to remember not to talk like Daryl was one of his buddies the same age. 'Well, mainly because the prick caught me and a girl in a broom-cupboard during recess.'

'Why's that so bad?'

Will could sense Merle's eyes roll at this even though he couldn't see him as he heard him snort in derision at his little brother's ignorance. 'We were messin' around, dumbass. Ya even know what that means – to mess around with a girl?'

He smirked remembering Sarah and him together, her in just her bra and him with his head buried under her skirt making her shudder and moan softly behind her hand when that bastard Rogers came calling. She had been mortified of course (she had been a good girl) and had immediately hid behind him. But the teacher had barely looked at her while Merle cursed inwardly. Just a few more minutes and he could have convinced her that they would get away with it...

'Yeah, I do. It means kissin' like in the movies. And...and doin' other stuff.' He heard him finish uncertainly and Will chuckled, it was true the kid badly needed some sex-ed. And Merle indeed was giving it to him in his own way.

'Oh, we were doin' far more than that, little brother.' Would have been, he silently corrected himself angrily. 'That bastard's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw us, let me tell you, and when ya a bit older, ya'll understand.'

He bragged like he always did, and Will could almost picture him shaking his head in disbelief at the younger boy with a mocking, big-brother condescending grin on his face. At the same time he was proud of Merle, scattering his seed around like that. Acting like a man. He only hoped that he was being careful, it wouldn't do to be saddled paying support for some little slut's brat if one got pregnant and decided to squeeze them for money they didn't have. Will had heard some girls got themselves knocked-up deliberately just for this purpose. He'd have to have a serious talk with the boy later about using protection.

'And that ain't all. He also mentioned a long overdue book that he thinks I lost in his letter to Dad.'

'Did you?'

‘Did I what?’

‘Lose it?’

‘Nope.’

'Then you still have it?'

'Nope again, little brother. It was a real good classic, The Grapes of Wrath that Miss Simmons told me to read. It weren't bad, either.'

'Then ya did lose it?' Daryl gushed in dismay.

'Nah, 'course not. Sold it as soon as I could.'

'But...Dad's gonna go ape when he finds out.'

Merle chuckled. 'What about? The girl or the stupid library book?'

'Both.' Daryl looked so worried on his behalf that Merle grinned and chucked him gently under the chin. 'But what ya did with the girl is a lot worse.'

'Well, he ain't gonna find out 'cos I'm gonna rip the letter. He'll never know.'

Will hissed at that and promised to beat 10 bells out of the boy but for the moment, he decided to wait and listen.

'Merle!' His youngest breathed in alarm. 'Ya can't....Ya teacher could call or come around the house...'

'As if...'

'But Merle!'

Will knew that voice, no doubt his son would have that incredulous look on his face, eyes as big and round as saucers and mouth hanging open wide no doubt, bless him.

'What? Ya scared? Ya mean ya wouldn't do the same if you were me?'

'He'll kill ya!'

Will frowned at that because he hadn't laid a hand on either of them since the last time, Merle was too big for that anyway but wasn't too old for a hard slap or two. He would make damn sure that he knew it and show him that he wasn't such a big man of the world like he thought he was.

'Ya such a pussy. Jus' a big baby, ain't ya, baby brother?'

'I ain't!' No doubt he had his arms crossed over his narrow chest and was glaring up at his big brother by now.

'Don't cry, little baby Darlena. Hey, ain't that a cool nickname I jus' thought up for you? I'm gonna call ya that from now on.' Merle was merciless.

'No! Don't call me that 'cos I ain't no baby! And I don't fuckin' cry! Ain’t no girl neither!'

'Little baby Darlena.' He crooned laughingly down at him.

'That ain't my name! I ain't a girl! Stop calling me that!' There were sounds of scuffle and Will grinned to himself as he saw the smaller silhouette launching himself at the other larger shadow, fists flying.

Merle chuckled as he caught him and held him by the wrists while he hissed and struggled like an alley-cat. 'Yeah, it is now.'

However, he must have realised that he'd gone too far with his jibing because Will heard him say next, 'Don't worry, you're only 11, still a baby compared to me. But ya'll understand about girls soon when ya get ya own.' His tone was still teasing but clearly he had turned the tormenting down a notch before he released him and shoved him away.

'Said I ain't no baby!' Daryl yelled back with fury in his voice, for a moment forgetting their father wasn't far away. 'Fuck you, Merle! Ya ain't that much older than me!' Even Will jumped when he did that.

Then the house was filled with the heartfelt laughter of his eldest as he guffawed, trying to gather enough breath enough to breathlessly get out, 'Nah, of course ya ain't. I was jus' teasin'.' And Will could see that he was ruffling his hair fondly as he spoke. 'I'll even help ya choose one if ya like.'

That seemed to brighten Daryl’s pissy mood and his laughter joined his older brother’s.

***

Will rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the second smile Merle had managed to bring out of him all in the same day, despite his anger at him for thinking he could hoodwink him so easily.

‘Boys, get in here.’ He barked, causing them to exchange anxious looks with each other.

Weren’t long before they both stood in the doorway looking questioningly at him. ‘Heat up the oven will ya? We’ll eat before Mike gets here, wouldn’t want to miss the game.’ Will decided to wait and ambush his eldest, more fun that way.

'Ya heard us on the phone? That mean ya gonna let him come over, Dad?' Merle asked in surprise and also looked a little alarmed while Daryl grinned and bounced up and down with excitement – he'd only heard that his beloved Uncle Mikey was coming, of course.

Meanwhile, Merle had forgotten all about being careful with what he said while winding Daryl up. Now he was worried that their father had heard everything about the teacher's letter, especially what he said about hiding it from him which was the worst. He was in deep shit, he knew that much. But teasing and thinking up that new nickname for his little brother had been too much fun and he'd forgotten to keep his voice down.

Dad answered his unspoken question as if he read his mind.

'Yeah, I heard ya, boy. Especially all about that letter from your teacher you were going to rip up and never tell me about.'

Will enjoyed the look of shock and panic on his face as he went pale. In the old days that kind of crime would have led to him unbuckling his belt, maybe even getting out his hunting knife as well. Those punishments weren't still off the table for very serious offences, no matter how big he got although he rarely punished Merle physically now and his son knew it.

'While we eat, perhaps ya can entertain us by regaling me and your brother with your exploits over the dinner table with that poor girl in that cupboard. Don't ya even think about how ashamed she must be feeling right now?'

Merle went red and looked down at the floor.

'Didn't think so. Bet ya been boasting about it to all ya buddies and adding stuff that didn't happen, huh? I know...I was ya age once. And did ya really think I wouldn't find out? I tell ya, I don't give a shit about the book but makin' a show of yourself like that...We're Dixons for fuck's sake!' Will raged when secretly he was grinning inside at his strapping stud of a son.

'No, Dad...was goin' to give it to ya, promise...I was jus' jokin' with Daryl...'

'Really?' Will didn't believe him but decided to let it go. He was doing a lot of that these days. 'Ya treat women with respect in future, ya hear, boy!' He snapped at him. 'Now give me that letter. I'll probably have to go down and speak to ya teacher now.' He grumbled. ‘You know how much I hate that fuckin' school and the teachers there. Always lookin' down their noses at us.’

'Dad...I'm sorry.' Merle apologised sheepily as he handed it over.

'Don't be sorry, Merle, but think next time. Why do ya always let ya dick do ya thinkin' for ya, huh? You and girls....' He had to suppress his own smirk of pride even though he was still really pissed off that the boy thought he could have hidden it from him.

Will couldn’t help but notice that Merle glanced at Daryl who was smirking at him this time. Enjoying the rare treat of seeing his big brother all flustered and blushing. Merle getting embarrassed didn't happen very often.

No doubt he was still pissed at being called 'baby Darlena'.

***

After the meal, Will went outside to have a much needed after dinner smoke and it didn’t take long before he spotted his friend turning up the path.

‘Brought a peace-offering with ya, have ya?' His voice was rough.

'If that's OK.'

Mike looked at him anxiously then, making Will force himself to soften his sarcastic smile. Then Will paused and deliberately blew smoke circles in his face but his friend didn’t seem to mind though and stood his ground. With that, Will shrugged and offered a small sincere smile. ‘Guess it’s better than nothin'. Come on in.'

Mike followed him, breathing a sigh of relief. Being allowed to cross the threshold was a sign that things were finally moving in the right direction between them.

'Why don't ya go on ahead and knock, there's a boy goin' crazy inside who's dyin' to see you.’

That earned him another look that Will could only describe as slight panic, but damn if he cared enough to ask him what was wrong.

As soon as Mike knocked on the door, hauling the six-packs with him in one brawny arm, Daryl nearly bowled him over in his eagerness to get to him.  
'Uncle Mikey!', he cried while Will was busy scowling. 

Especially when he caught the other man discretely checking Daryl over - for recent injuries no doubt.  
But he wouldn’t find any, he thought to himself smugly. Will hadn’t laid a hand on him since the last time. That had led to Daryl trusting him more and more, the flinches and cowering back from him were almost non-existent by now. Consequently, Will had to bite his tongue not to snarl at the other man to stop him from looking over his son so obviously in front of him.

Instead Mike hurried inside and nodded at Merle before he looked down with a smile at the youngest Dixon. 'Hi.'

Daryl hugged him as tightly as he could before the man gently patted his shoulder and pulled away. ‘That’s enough, kiddo.’

Meanwhile, Will grinned behind his son, knowing by the look on Mike’s hesitant face that Daryl was giving him one of his expert silent sad puppy-dog expressions that was all the more vocal for that.

'Missed ya too.' Mike told him before Will grabbed him instead.

'Come here, son.' He said and wrapped his arms around his shoulders from behind.

Daryl still looked up at Mike, finally drawing an apology from him: 'I pulled a muscle while weight-lifting, couldn’t hug ya back properly, what’s the point if I can’t, huh?'

'Uh...OK.' Daryl said, a little happier now.

Mike groaned as he placed the six-pack onto the table in the living room and sat down. ‘Man, it hurts like a bitch! It’ll pass soon enough though, not the first time we've pulled a muscle the wrong way, ain't that right, Will?’

He smiled at his friend as he sat down and popped the first beer of the evening open. ‘Nope, and not the last time either.’

Merle sniggered and caught his brother's eye because since when did Dad work out?

Later when they were in the middle of the game, Daryl who was sitting next to Mike, scooted even closer to the man much to Will’s annoyance and tried to crawl into his lap.

'Daryl! What did I tell ya? Stop actin' like a little kid, will ya?' Will scolded him.

He looked back at his Dad, chastened and immediately put some distance between himself and Mike. 'Sorry.'

'Come here, boy.' Will ordered, a little more gently now.

Mike could hardly hide his sigh of relief.

'Ya getting' too old for that now.' Will motioned him to sit down next to him instead on the sofa in the spot recently vacated by Merle who'd gone for a piss. Despite what he'd said, Will put an arm around him and occasionally a hand through his hair while taking a swig of beer. Daryl was soon nodding against his shoulder but he didn't have the heart to send him up to bed. Not until the baseball game was over and they knew who had won.

Will hoped that it wouldn't be the Yankees...he hated those guys.

***

Mike returned home after some talking with Will after the game. Things were still a little frosty and restrained between them, but they had made a lot of progress that evening. Things were more or less back to normal, the big man told himself.

Something told Mike that him rejecting Daryl time and again was helping his and Will’s relationship mend for some unknown reason. Keeping the boy at a distance was the best thing he could do, since the fucking urges and fantasies gave him no rest what so ever anymore. In his mind's eye, every boy he watched on the videos or saw in the photos when he jerked off had been replaced with Daryl and so he'd quickly decided to back off from the boy. It would have only caused trouble with Will, anyway. 

It didn’t help one bit that after he’d seen his body, beaten up like it had been at the time, the fantasies of him had escalated from just vague imagination in his head to something very vivid.

To be honest, it had scared him shitless once his mind had taken that plunge to the next level where Daryl was concerned.

Mike was determined to have his friend and things back to the way they were. Most of all, he wanted to avoid all temptation from his youngest no matter how much the little minx flirted with him. If he were to give in, he knew that there would be no turning back. He just wasn’t sure if he would be able to control himself enough to not hurt the boy he secretly adored.

***

The next day Merle left early in the morning, probably to shack up with one of his slutty girlfriends no doubt. Just as the door slammed shut, Will woke up with a throbbing hang-over and naturally was in a pissy mood as soon as he opened his eyes. He'd had almost a whole bottle of whiskey to top off the beer he'd gone through with Mike after the man left. Now he was just looking for someone to take his bad mood out on.

When Daryl came into the kitchen, half an hour later, rubbing his eyes and mumbling 'Mornin', Dad he hit him again for the first time in weeks. Over forgotten dirty dishes of all things, although acting cute with Mike and embarrassing them was the main reason, he didn't tell him that.

Daryl didn't cry – he knew that doing that made his Dad angrier, Will gave him that. He had only looked at him in hurt shock before he ran for the stairs.

This cowardice only increased Will's rage as he chased him and yanked him back down again by the back of his T-shirt. 'Can't take ya punishment, now that there's no-one around to save ya, that it?' He snarled at him between blows with no mercy. By now he doubted his son was even listening as he tried to protect his head with his hands. 'About time I beat the pussy outta ya, been too soft on ya lately.'

'Please, Dad, stop. I'm sorry I didn't do the dishes....'

'You beg me again to stop and I'll go get my belt.'

That shut him up.

'And I'll use my knife on ya next time if ya go whinin' to ya brother or Mike about this.' He punched him again in the stomach to drive his point home, causing him to stumble and clutch his middle. For a moment he looked like he couldn't breathe and Will stopped, worried he'd gone too far. A trip to the hospital wouldn't be a good thing right now. But when he heard him take a shaky breath again, he resumed his onslaught.

He let his son stumble upstairs after he finally finished with him and flexed his muscles. It had sure felt good to get rid of his long suppressed anger and feelings of irritation at his son. Will just hoped that he hadn't let things slide too long, that he hadn't been too soft with him not be able to put the Dixon back into Daryl. 

He had the mind to not hit him where it was visible no matter how pissed off he was. Luckily this little slip up would go unnoticed. Merle wouldn’t see unless he stripped Daryl looking for bruises and other marks and he wouldn’t go that far would he? Especially now when it had been ages since Will had so much as flicked an earlobe when they did or said something to annoy him.


	14. The line is drawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set two years later, which means Daryl is 13 and Merle 18 and not much has changed between them, but things have certainly changed between Daryl, his dad and Mike.
> 
> Thanks for reading and remember: comments and kudos are love, so give them to us!

Will had a few of his closest friends over one weekend, not just to get loaded either - he'd got some real good shit from his dealer. But the party wouldn't really start until Daryl was safely tucked up in bed.

Among the invited guests was Mike of course, 41, the only one who looked out of place with his youthful good looks. Combined with his overal healthy glow and the big strong arms that he got from his work, it was enough to make the rest of them sick. Still, he had reasons to be content, starting out as a car mechanic, he now had his own successful business with a couple of employees in tow. More than that, his customers would come from villages miles around for his services and his nice clothes, his big house in the part of town he lived in, were the fruits of that success.

Naturally, up to a few years ago, Will had been jealous of his money, but his resentment was soon appeased when Mike began to share out the wealth generously amongst his close friends. He went so far as to spoil his sons by buying them presents all the time, especially Daryl, his honorary 'godson'. Dixons didn't do religion.

Mike also dabbled in drugs less often than they did and Will wondered if he would pass up on them. He had that hungry look on him tonight though, so Will doubted that he was planning on saying no.

Another member of Will's inner circle was Mark, a man in his late 40’s, fat and slow, but he could hold his booze (and drugs) better than most.

The oldest of the bunch was One-eyed Joe at sixty. He’d been a hardworking lumberjack and had led an even harder life which was written clearly on the lines in his face and his sagging jowls. He'd got his nickname when he lost his left eye in a bar-brawl while celebrating his 30th birthday and his punishing lifestyle had continued ever since, causing him look at least 10 years older.

Last but not least, Smitty, a scrawny scarecrow of a man who’d lost half his teeth due to heavy drug-use, but he’d failed to take the hint and slow down. Had no family to speak of but he couldn't care less with his severe life-long addiction that started at age 13. Now he did more meth and rock than all of them put together and it had been that way for years. He was only a few years older than Will and Mike but the meth had robbed him of nearly all of his teeth and his good looks along with it. His nose was also missing a septum and Will always had doubts whether he should let someone like that around his sons or not. He told himself that the man was harmless and a real good friend, never mind his appearance that had scared Daryl so much when he was younger. Will didn't plan on kicking him out any time soon.

But Mike – Mike - was a completely different story.

As he expected, Will saw Smitty’s eyes light up with excitement when he hinted at the treat he had in store for them while his best friend looked at best – bored. Irritating as this was, Will decided to ignore it.

As they took their seats on the living-room sofa, Will gazed at his best friend for a moment and tried to gauge his mood, but was left none the wiser. The man was giving nothing away on the poker-face he was wearing.

Losing interest in this game which he couldn't win, Will lost himself in the past instead, remembering the boys they once were. He had plenty of memories to draw on from over the years. Growing up together from that first day of elementary school where they’d met as they did,  the two best buddies had been inseparable ever since. They’d watched each other's backs, protected and supported each other their entire lives.

Will smiled fondly to himself as he recalled sharing their very first cigarette which they'd smoked while laughing, hearts beating hard and fast, wondering if they were going to get caught behind the school bike shed. The pack of woodbines had been stolen, naturally, from Will's dad and he had paid the full price for both of them at the wrong end of his Daddy's belt when he got home that night. But he would have done it all again given half the chance - it had been worth every stinging lash.

Then, when they got older, they passed other rites of passage together and been each other's best men at their respective weddings, the Dixon tying the knot a few years earlier than his friend.

To put it in a nutshell, if Will's own older brother hadn't died in a hunting accident at the tender age of 18, he couldn't have been closer to Mike, even if they weren't blood.

More than that, the gaping hole left behind in Mike’s heart by Maggie not being able to give him any children of their own to love, certainly played a big part in his fondness for Will’s two boys. Will knew that Mike had naturally taken on the responsibility as a second father rather quickly, especially after his wife died and he knew that looking out for Merle and Daryl had been a welcome distraction from his grief.

In many ways, they were kin in every sense of the word and Mike had become the brother he had lost and a real' Uncle' to the boys, not only in name.

He was family.

That's why it was even more shocking for everyone involved to understand how what happened later could have happened, especially with all the history between the two men.

***

Things had changed over the last two years however, because sure, on the surface, the man had done his part as 'Uncle' and 'Godfather' by occasionally giving Daryl money and presents on important occasions. Yet, Will had a feeling that until recently, Mike had done his duty simply out of necessity because it was expected of him, not because he wanted to. For some reason, he had decided to put some space between him and his youngest son. The father could trace this shift in attitude from round about the time Daryl had come back after staying at Mike's after Will got drunk and lost it.

Will had partly blamed himself for that – after all, hadn't he told him to back off after their fight? But that had been a long time ago and even if he thought that Mike could’ve handled it a bit better with Daryl, he wasn’t going to be the one to tell him that. Anyway, Mike taking a step back was the best thing that could’ve happened since him and Daryl had finally got the chance to grow closer with him more or less out of the picture. 

To be honest,  despite Daryl's obvious distress, Will had been secretly pleased at how things had turned out. 

Until now that was.

When Mike had first started backing off, Daryl would come to him asking him why Mike was shooing him away all the time. But each time This happened, Will had waved it off like it was nothing. He was careful to not make it into a big deal by trying to explain to Daryl what was happening, because he had no real idea why himself after all. Well – that wasn't quite true, he corrected himself. He had his theories but he didn't know - not for sure.

The common thread in all of this was that Daryl hadn't understood what he’d done wrong, and he'd been hurt at first. But even if he used to worship the ground Mike walked on, he eventually got over him, tough boy that he was. He was a Dixon and everyone knew that the Dixons were as tough as nails.

Now things between them had recently shifted again when Mike had started taking more of an interest in Daryl. For example, he often asked Will how he was doing when he had barely mentioned him before.

In this way, he indicated that his period of disinterest and distance was officially over. Confusing the kid even more and raking up all the old hurts – he could see it in his son's miserable expression, Will thought sourly, wondering why he had let this slide. Maybe because he was secretly wondering how Daryl would react to the new and improved 'Mr Friendly' Mike tonight and if Mike would be able to keep it up.

Daryl had long got over how he'd been shoved aside and passed over, but he'd never forgotten it. Will predicted that once deeply hurt by Mike’s behavior towards him it would be enough to make his son find it difficult to trust him again. Probably never would, he thought a little smugly to himself.

This satisfying thought made Will smile quietly to himself when later, it became clear that he had predicted right. Daryl hadn't fallen for this sudden change of heart. It was too much of a leap from being ignored, to him suddenly being Mike’s favorite boy again. Of course, he was suspicious and remained reserved towards his once beloved 'Uncle Mikey'.

Yet there was something different in the way Daryl looked at the man lately. It wasn’t just bewilderment at his new, almost overbearing friendliness. An act that failed to ring true to Will. Mike didn't convince his son either, that much was very clear.

Besides, what was the kid supposed to think after months of only a few grunts and sidelong glances, to this sudden barrage of attention and flattery?

It was more than just fatherly interest coming  from Mike, Will was sure, yet he couldn't put his finger on what that other part was. No wonder Daryl looked at him a little apprehensively, especially since it was only a few weeks ago that the man had done everything in his power not to be alone in the same room with him. Now, naturally he didn't know what he'd done to deserve this renewed acknowledgement that he existed.

The whole thing with Mike was fucked up and weird, that's what it was.

Will knew that however close he and Mike had been, Daryl came first. His son always would come first, no matter what. While he watched them together, he had a nagging feeling that he was missing a piece of the bigger picture, something vitally important. Therefore, he made a promise to himself right then, to watch over them closely. Especially since, whenever Mike was present, Daryl seemed to be downright intimidated by the man sometimes. Will thought he looked damn near ready to jump out of his skin every time Mike addressed him. But to be fair to Mike, the boy had always been highly-strung.

Yet try as he might, Will couldn't fathom the reasons for this second big change even if he tried, he only knew that it made him uneasy.

For example, Mike had started asking his youngest what he'd done during the day or exclaiming admiringly how big he'd grown. He did this often, acting as if he and Daryl was sharing a big secret between them that Will wasn't party to. Like he knew something that Will didn't know about and it irritated the hell out of him. Besides, all the compliments embarrassed his son.

The boy had answered his questions, showing respect to his elders just like he'd been raised each time, but usually escaped as soon as he could from the relentless questioning and his father couldn't blame him. Will put it all down to the kid's damn shyness – the boy never did like to be the center of attention.

There was also the fact that Mike used to be good at making Daryl laugh before, even though he was never a kid who was easy to amuse. Except for his big brother, of course. Brought so effortlessly to uncontrollable giggles by his 'Uncle' in the past, Will would snigger now whenever Mike struggled to even coax a shy little smile from him. He no longer responded to his jokes and funny stories in the same heartfelt way anymore. It wasn’t just because the kid was older now and less easy to impress, that much didn't escape Will.

The head of the Dixon household was lost in his thoughts while the others chatted, smoked and drank as he lit his own cigarette while trying to understand what the hell was going on. When he pondered it in more depth, he thought he recognized the signs. Daryl was on edge, acting the same way he did when his big brother wasn't around and there was a punishment hanging imminent in the air. Will now glared at Mike trying to figure out why he was going through so much effort,  because Daryl's instincts were rarely off.

There was also something about the way Mike looked at his son lately, different to before in a way he couldn't exactly pin-point. Whatever the reason, an icy finger would trail down his spine whenever he caught Mike staring at Daryl like he was drinking him in with his eyes...and watching them would set off the alarm bells ringing in his head.

Still, Will did nothing to interfere no matter how many times he’d felt the urge to call his boy over and hold him close. Something always stopped him and he couldn't allow himself to pursue this train of thought and add the obvious numbers together to finish the equation. Because it couldn't be true what he suspected of his oldest, best friend who had been nothing but good to him and his two sons in the past. Even taking them in when needed and treating them like his own.

Besides, Mike wasn't like that – couldn't be - any hint of that and the offender was immediately either ostracized or 'disappeared' from their community. Even the cops would turn a blind eye.

They'd known each other all their lives and Mike had never shown any signs of being into that, of being a pervert - he loved women too much. If either of his sons were in danger, surely Will would have known?  
Takes one to know one, his mind whispered to him tauntingly, but he shoved the nagging thought away. It scared the shit out of him like nothing else could.

Surely he was overreacting? Both him and Merle had always been overprotective when it came to Daryl – there was just something fragile about the boy, almost vulnerable yet he was no weakling or a weak pushover, he'd proved it again and again. Daryl was far from soft, in fact.

Will resumed his study of his friend in silence, while Mike happily focused his attention on talking with the others, to his own, and no doubt – his son's relief. Merle wasn't joining them tonight – was out on the prowl somewhere, another reason for Daryl's skittishness.

His best buddy was a good fit-looking man for his age, Will had to give him that, and he used it to his advantage with women. He always made sure to take care of his body – one he was proud of and had every reason to be. He had a gentlemanly manner about him too that served him well with the ladies.  
He’d had himself a few girlfriends a lot younger than himself since his wife passed away, to all of theirmutual admiration and jealousy.

Yet none of this history helped to ease the father's heart because no matter how he tried, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of mild alarm when he saw the change in Mike's attitude towards Daryl. Why was he renewing his interest in him now? It was unsettling to say the least, and Will almost wished Mike would go back to treating Daryl like he’d done only six weeks ago. Go back to barely speaking to or looking at him and always keeping him at arm's length.

As if to confirm it, some instinct had made the father plan to keep Daryl away from Mike and the others as often as he could even though he was curious about how Mike and him would interact but damn it - they'd only gone and turned up early and he hadn't sent the boy up to his room yet.

This gave Mike the opportunity he’d been waiting for. They'd only swigged down a can or two, not even started on the meth yet – (Will wouldn't allow it until Daryl was safely sleeping upstairs) and he didn’t have the time to ping open another beer before the big brute started.

'Hey, son.' He had greeted Daryl warmly as soon as he laid eyes on him.

Daryl froze in his tracks and frowned at the man before he eyed him with blatant distrust.

No wonder the kid was mixed-up. Will could sense his discomfort from where he was standing, watching how this would unfold with interest. Not daring to be rude and risk his father's wrath, Daryl was pinned right where he was.

A fact that was apparently lost on Mike, or he simply didn’t care as he continued: 'Can't believe how big ya grown. Got a girlfriend yet?' He badgered him almost without pause.

Smitty and Joe snickered but pricked up their ears to listen while Mark looked on and said nothing.

Daryl blushed and looked away, a fact that immediately irritated Will who wished that he was more like Merle who would have given a witty and filthy comeback at the same age, to make them all laugh. But not Daryl.

'Speak up, son, when ya spoken to. Mike was asking ya a question.' He ordered him before he sat down with a loud grunt. Despite himself, Will was curious to hear the boy's answer, even though he was pretty sure what it would be. His baby boy was too shy and picky, no doubt. None of the cheap tarts that his brother always bedded would be good enough for his Daryl.

Daryl shrugged when he realized he had no choice but to answer. 'No.' He replied hesitantly and Will knew he was telling the truth.

'What?' Mike answered with exaggerated surprise. 'A handsome boy like ya? They must be linin' up round the place just to get a piece of ya.'

Will frowned at this degrading image and even the others looked shocked. Meanwhile, he caught him actually looking his son up and down the whole length of his slender body. Had the others also seen? As if checking him out – but that was sick and therefore impossible, wasn't it? What did the guy think he was playing at? And with his thirteen-year old son at that?

Yet, during this creepy exchange he repressed a shiver and remained seated where he was. Even their audience looked uncomfortable. Especially when Daryl wrapped his arms over his chest and hunched his shoulders, looking so damn small.

What the hell was Mike doing? He was still just a little boy! Will Dixon thought angrily to himself. OK, he had to admit when Merle was thirteen, he hadn’t thought about him as ‘just a little boy’ but that was Merle. Too knowing by half and this contrast in personality was among the things that made them different from each other. Daryl was sweeter than his brother had ever been and this, and the fact that he was the baby of the Dixon family was what made him Will's favorite.

Had he really expected his children to turn out the same? Why the hell  should they?  
Will had sensed from his birth that he needed different treatment from his brother. Recalling  his little boy's body, Will knew for a fact that he was still relatively hairless with skin as smooth as a baby's. So what the fuck did Mike think he was doing, asking him a question like that? 

Daryl was a slow developer, shown by his voice that remained mostly unbroken. A voice he couldn't find at the moment to give an appropriate reply to the too personal questions. Or even to tell Mike to mind his own damn business like his brother would have done at his age. Too scared of his Daddy's reaction no doubt, but right then Will wished he would have fought back. He wouldn't have punished him for it later either, probably would've praised him for showing some backbone. But to his son's defence; how was Daryl to know that?

So, he remained where he was, looking dumbstruck and like he didn't want to be there. Will fought down the impulse to get up from his seat and get between them to shield his son from that intrusive gaze that roamed all over his slender body, but he stopped himself just in time. He didn't want them to think that he handled Daryl with kid gloves. He was a Dixon and should be able to stick up for himself after all.

At the same time, Will wanted to break the palpable tension in the room which was ruining the evening as well as distract those greedy eyes that seemed to be undressing his kid right in front of him. He intended to do something about all of it, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move or make his mouth speak. Whether it was him in denial about his best friend, Will wasn’t sure.

Seconds later he forgot his earlier doubts and the notion of leaving Daryl to stick up for himself vanished from his mind when he heard Mike's next words, 'Or don't ya like girls, boy? Ya a little pansy, that it?'


	15. Challenge Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger-warning, directly follows the previous chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We posted this chapter since it's the second part of the previous one because Chapter 14 got too long...turns out, this became the monster chapter! :) We hope it was worth the wait!

After Mike uttered this, the others  let out gasps and looked at each other in disbelief, as if to confirm what they had just heard. While the insulted boy's father looked too shocked to respond, other members of the party tried to stick up for his son.  Even the ever placid and one never-to-blow-a-fuse One-Eyed Joe hissed over at Mike in outrage. 'What the hell did you just say to him?' 

Mike didn't deign to reply and only had eyes gleaming with uncharacteristic cruelty for the boy while he waited for him to answer. Smitty, for his part, let out a nervous bark of laughter, but shut his mouth pretty quickly when Will shot daggers at him with his eyes. 

Meanwhile, Daryl went bright red and was unable to do anything else other than look up at his tormentor with a pitiful expression of mingled hurt and betrayal. 

It was now more clear than ever to Will that Daryl was on the verge of running upstairs, permission granted or not. So deeply embarrassed by the conversation and so unable to fight back against Mike, he had hung his head as if in shame. Yet the father silently willed him to stand up for himself, because the defeated way he was acting might lead some people present to believe that there was something in the asshole's accusations. 

Nevertheless, he'd been well-trained and didn't dare leave the room until Will allowed him to. But it didn't stop him from sending frantic glances his way, silently begging his father to save him. 

'He's only 13. Still a kid, for fuck's sake.' Will snapped and glared at Mike in warning. 'Leave him the fuck alone!' He added, snarling. Usually that tone was enough to stop  Mike’s runaway mouth but this time the bastard just kept on going, as if he and Daryl were alone without an audience. 

Even then it wouldn't have been right, it would still have embarrassed his shy son. Besides, who would have been on his side to reign in Mike?

Incredibly, with all eyes on him in the room, including the enraged father's, the big man apparently couldn't care less about Daryl's mortification, as he blundered on; “Well, what I meant was -ya got yourself a  little boyfriend, then? Those boys  must be linin' up 'round the block jus't to get a piece of ya, huh? Ya sure got the good looks and fine bones to pass for one.'  

Ignoring their aghast expressions and Will's face going pale with speechless rage at this degrading image of his son, Mike leaned forward as if he was expecting an actual answer to this outrageous question. Only the mean gleam in his eye and the vicious twist of his lips betrayed his mocking intention. 

Will had time to observe that he wasn’t even that drunk or high – no more than the rest of them, so what the hell was he playing at? Meanwhile, his other friends merely shook their heads and stared at the scene unfolding right in front of them.  

Daryl's blush rose to a whole new level at this new attack but then his eyes suddenly  flashed with anger and he turned on him belligerently. To his father's immense relief; he had finally found the words to fight back. ‘No way! What’s it to you, anyhow?’ He snarled and glared at him. 

Mike just smiled with that infuriating gentleness of his back at him, but otherwise didn't respond to this outburst. Apparently Daryl’s reply was what he’d wanted to hear and he simply nodded as his self-satisfied smile grew even wider. Confirming something to himself. 

His friend's knowing smirk enraged Will even further, because Mike was once again looking like he knew something about Daryl that he didn't. Fuck knew why he was allowing this humiliation of his son under his own roof. 

Damn Mike! He wished Merle was here, if he was, the bastard would be bleeding on the floor after having had the living daylights knocked out of him. His older boy was like that when it came to his younger sibling. Lord knows, there was never a more protective big brother than Merle. 

Yet he was Daryl’s father, not him. So, why – oh why, did he find it so damn hard to stand up to the man? What was this power he held over them? Anyone else who hurt Daryl like that and Will would have laid him cold on the floor by now. 

But not Mike. Too much for too long had passed between them. But if he didn't let up on Daryl he’d have to do something to protect his boy’s dignity as well as his reputation and with it, his family's. Will could see it all slowly crumbling right in front of him. 

He knew how to attack him in a battle of words though, so he decided to at least do that. So fixing Mike with an icy, hard stare, he grumbled: 'What the fuck's wrong with you, huh? Accusin' my boy of being a fag?! He yelled as he rose to loom over his best buddy with his fists clenched. Seconds later, he was still screaming in his face and the bastard didn't even recoil, he only looked away with an expression that was hard for Will to read. 

From the corner of his eye Will caught Daryl flinching and knew he was scaring him, but he couldn't stop himself. 'Told ya to stop that shit!' 

He was only shouting for now- he knew that he had to curb his anger with Daryl there, or take it outside. But by now he was so fired up, he couldn’t make a decision, he could only keep venting his rage with words. What kept fueling Will’s anger  most was that Mike had also indirectly insulted him by suggesting that his son could be a disgusting homosexual. For example, if  Merle had turned out to be one of those perverts, Will would have whipped him bloody and thrown him out of the house. He’d be damned before he let some sick perversion like that be what finally dragged the Dixon name down. Luckily, that randy boy had proved to be the very opposite.   

Even suggesting such a thing was enough to cause a fight to the death between him and any other man. None of this was lost on their audience who did nothing than shift awkwardly in their seats, while watching the three of them with wide eyes and bated breath. Enjoying the free entertainment, no doubt, Will thought to himself cynically. However, he also had the feeling that like his son, they were torn and also just wanted to get out of there as fast as they could,  even if it meant missing out on good quality meth. 

Meanwhile Daryl stood there and stared in front of him, not daring to sit down or even move until ordered. He was a good kid and didn't deserve what Mike was dishing out. The bastard was thirty years older and at least 200 pounds heavier, was bullying him and Will simply wasn't having that. 

Said man shrugged casually as he slugged back Will's beer but still failed to meet his friend’s eyes which were blazing with fury. Not just account on the beer he was swigging back either. They'd brought their own booze with them, but Will was the host for the night so it went without saying that they started on his first.  

Somewhere inside Will hoped that Mike being unwilling to look up at him meant that he knew somewhere deep inside him that he'd done wrong. But then again, that infuriating, superior twist of his lips betrayed his true feelings, and told Will otherwise.  

Meanwhile, Smitty put his hand over his mouth and cleared his throat nervously, still hesitating to say what was on everyone’s mind. Wondering what Mike was doing - antagonizing Will by insinuating that his son was a fag. As his best friend and guest too! 

One-eyed Joe finally straightened up in the sofa and raked his hand over his face, obviously tired of the man's despicable behavior as he looked at Mike. ‘What’s ya problem? It’s Daryl. Ya love that boy.’  

Will nodded briskly in brief gratitude to Joe for speaking up when he himself didn’t have the energy. All that he had was used up on not letting his wrath take him completely over and not kill Mike. Instead, he sat down angrily in his chair before snatching the bottle of whisky on the side-table next to him without offering any to his visitors. He was too pissed off. 

Apparently seeing Daryl twisting his hands in dejected misery had got to the other men as well. Finally finding courage to speak up after letting Joe go first, Smitty added his piece after gulping down a huge mouthful of beer and slamming the can back down empty on the table.  
'What the fuck is up with ya? Ya high already, Mike? He’s just picky, ain't that right, Daryl?’  

Answering for him so that he wouldn't have to, Will nodded over to Daryl as he suddenly declared, ''Course he’s picky. Ain’t no way he’s wired the wrong way. Ya saying a Dixon can be a fag? I ought to take ya out and beat the living shit outta ya for just that, even if you are – were... my best friend I grew up with.' 

Their audience just stared then and Will could sense them wondering again if it was time to leave and forget about the drugs and make a rapid exit. They could smell blood in the air with Mike skating on very  thin ice. The others knew that something had happened between them a couple of years ago and it had taken ages afterwards for Mike to be fully reconciled to Will. Neither of the men had talked about it, so they hadn’t asked. Still, it had been a big relief when Mike had been accepted back into the fold and things went back to normal. After a fashion. 

What was worse though, was that the things that his friend had just said to his younger son resonated with some of Will's own most private suspicions that he'd never voiced to anybody, and his body thanked him that he had now turned to the whiskey instead of the cheap cans of horse-piss he'd offered them. Besides, he definitely needed something stronger to take the edge off this surreal conversation. 

'Ya leave him alone now, Mike.' He repeated to drive his point home. 'Otherwise ya can get out now and never come back. I mean it this time.' He warned. 

Will glanced over at his son and his hunched shoulders told him that he was still feeling attacked, what with all the attention that was still being directed at him. But, like a good boy, he remained standing where he was, staring down silently at the carpet, looking like he was wishing that it would swallow him up and end all his misery. Seeing him looking like that roused the father's pity. So, Will motioned him over and patted the arm of his armchair invitingly. At the same time, he thought, he also get his son away from Mike. 

'Come and sit with me, son.' He suggested to him kindly and when Daryl thought it safe enough to sit down, Will immediately put a protective arm around his shoulders and glared savagely around at his guests. 

'Think this is funny, do ya?' He demanded from each of them in turn, deliberately skipping Mike. They hurried to shake their heads and reassure him that they didn't.    
Mike merely smiled in that annoying, smug way of his. 

'Don't listen to him. He's already drunk and high most likely,' Will soothed in his teenage boy's ear so that the others couldn't hear him. Daryl found the courage then to look up from under his father's arm, and before Will knew it, he felt him relax. Probably for the first time that evening.  

‘Yeah, I don’t usually listen to assholes…’ Daryl announced loudly, locking eyes with his antagonist in a confrontational stare and straightening his spine in defiance. 

Will couldn’t stop himself from beaming a little at that. The others neither. What he missed however, was his son sticking his finger up at his former friend. The man only grinned back at this while his eyes twinkled with merriment, promising the boy silently that he would take up his unspoken challenge sooner or later.  

Will looked back at Mike in time to see that something about his expression and body-language had drastically changed. Unnerved at this, Daryl shrank back against his father, but didn't back down from the staring match. Will reflexively tightened his hold on him and stroked his arm encouragingly behind his back. He wanted to be discrete and not risk embarrassing his son any further by babying him in front of the other men. He was also careful to avoid the places that he knew were still tender from the last beating he'd administered.

However, he unconsciously tightened his hold on his arm without realizing what he was doing at first. Still, his son didn’t pull away even as two of his thick fingers roamed too close to a recent bruise, making the father wonder at his son. Because even after everything he’d done, God help him, his touch could still make Daryl feel safe, like he really needed it to right now. Will fully understood why Daryl felt unnerved by this new chain of events, and just like him, he didn’t much care for Mike’s facial expression or his looks. 

The others kept on shifting nervously in their seats, clearly sensing that a fight was still looming but no one wanted to interfere with Will Dixon when he was angry. Or come between him and his kid when he was feeling protective. 

Mike was the first to back down this time and look away, causing Will to feel yet another wave of pride towards his son when the man softened his expression. Mike let Daryl stare him down and put his hands up in patronising mock surrender. 'Calm down, Champ. Was just messin’ with ya.’ 

Daryl snorted in derision and turned back to his father. Mike addressed Will over his head. ‘Jus' a joke in poor taste, Will, I'm sorry. Didn’t mean nothin' by it. But come on, ya gotta admit he's a lot different from ya and Merle at his age.' 

'How  so?' The other growled back dangerously. 

Mike gulped and continued to try and dig himself out of the hole he'd buried himself in. He paused a moment to think how best to phrase what he wanted to say and calm his friend down at the same time. 

'All I meant was ….he.. ain't got neither of yours' build, he's leaner, smaller, that's all I wanted to say. ' 

'That don't mean nothin'!' Joe retorted and slammed his fist on the table for emphasis. 

'No...I know that...' This time Mike was the one who blushed and looked away. 

‘Ya should feel bad, ya damn near broke the kid’s spirit...Humiliatin' him like that...Although I doubt anyone can. He's one tough kid.' 

'Thanks Joe, I got it from here. You want to say somethin' else about that? Maybe somethin' more about my family? About my dead wife by any chance, ya fuckin' scumbag?' Will snarled and with his threatening tone, made the three men uncomfortable all over again. At least Mike had the good grace to look ashamed as he shook his head, but Will's anger was not to be appeased.  

He pulled his son even closer against him so that Daryl's head was now resting on his broad chest but the boy didn't seem to mind. His mood was much brighter now that he'd proved himself against Mike. Now he settled on watching them argue to and fro, barely listening because they were all drunk and talking over his head anyhow. 

As if he'd read his son’s thoughts, he looked down at him instead, tired of eye-balling the man who was now trying to excuse his way back into his good graces. The Dixon was having none of it, after all. 'Ya talkin' shit as usual, asshole, 'cos he's still got plenty of time to fill out, ain't ya, Daryl?' Will retorted.  

He suddenly felt another wave of pride since the last hunt when his son had excelled himself was still fresh in his memory. ‘He can creep up on prey quiet as a mouse and shoot it down – he's the reason we always catch somethin' to eat. Don't need to be big to get the job done.' 

‘I didn’t mean it as an insult, Will. He’s a spunky kid, I thought he could take a joke or two, that’s all.’ 

‘Some joke.’ The others snorted with disgust, agreeing with their host. Mike had been out of line picking on Daryl like that. 

Mike shook his head, sensing the dangerous undertone in his best friend's voice. He already knew he'd gone too far by embarrassing Daryl and mocking his manhood like that. But it was just too damn easy. 

‘Think ya done having your fun at the expense of my boy, ya fuckin' coward?’ He suddenly hissed confrontationally. 

‘For now.’ 

All eyes was directed at him then in shock, but he answered them all with a huge grin. ‘I mean until your other boy shows up. Merle can take jokes like this, knows I’m only messin' with him.’ 

‘Merle’s almost 18, idiot. There's a big difference between 'em.’ Mark piped up again. 'Ya punchin' beneath ya weight when ya say that shit about his younger brother.' 

‘That’s damn right. If Merle was here and he heard you sayin' that crap to his little brother...’ Will whistled when he couldn't find the words to describe what his oldest son would do. ‘Mark my words…’ 

'Easy, Will. He’s probably just tripping on somethin'. He ain't worth it...Leave him be.' Joe laid a hand on his shoulder which he immediately shook off angrily. Still unable to calm himself down. 

“Ya ever talk to him like that or behave like a fuckin' madman and scare him again, you’re gonna have me to deal with. Merle too, and believe me when I say he'd hurt ya worse than I ever could.’  

Daryl smirked across at him from where he felt himself made secure by his father's side, as well as by his words. At the same time, he could feel  his body shaking with anger.  

Sensing that their host was well on his way to exploding once more, his cronies sat there in uneasy silence, wondering if they should leave him and Mike to thrash out their differences in private. But nobody moved, not wishing to appear rude and thus inflame Will further. 

After the necessary confrontation with Mike, Will did try his best to brush the incident off. He must be imagining things… The looks, the words containing filthy innuendo just under the surface. Not to mention the way Mike was reveling in embarrassing his thirteen-year-old son that only increased the surrealism of the situation. 

Even though he hated himself for it, he couldn’t stop his own troubled mind from wondering if this was all him projecting his own guilty conscience onto Mike? Trying to convince himself that he wasn't the only one with sick thoughts about his son and in that way, make himself feel better.

The man did have a tendency to be brutally honest without giving much thought to what he was saying, that was nothing new. But he'd never treated Daryl that way before - he'd never been cruel. The exact opposite, in fact. He used to be fiercely protective of the boy, often even going against Will. 

But what spoke against Mike, and was feeding Will’s doubts was the way he seemed to enjoy it a little too much when their conversation caused Daryl to blush furiously. Even more so when the boy stubbornly maintained eye-contact with him in a battle of wills, it had been uncomfortable to watch for all of them up until the point where he’d forced Mike to back down. 

Something about the whole thing seemed off, and later, he would wonder why he didn’t kick Mike out straightaway when he first started to attack Daryl. Instead, he'd allowed himself and his son to be made into a mockery of in his own home. But he was tired and drunk and not thinking straight. He sighed, suddenly fed up with it all, and ended with; 'Ain't nobody callin' my son a fag. Not even you, Mike.”   

A couple of tense minutes passed by before Smitty broke the silence and told some stories about the stupid things some travelers had done at their local bar Marty's. It eased some of the tension and soon they were all laughing along with him, even Daryl. 

Will still kept a tight grip on his boy though, enjoying the feel of him when he knew he should have sent him up to bed the moment Mike had started acting weird. But they were all enjoying themselves too much now, because Smitty as a comedian was a natural, and his missing teeth did nothing to detract from the humor of his hilarious stories. 

Nevertheless, the tension eased between all of them, even from Will as time went by. Mike's questionable behavior became less and less memorable with each swig of beer they gulped down,  in Will’s case whiskey. Somehow, even he was able to put the earlier altercation to the back of his mind and explain it away.  
He'd regret it later.

Gradually, he slumped back more and more and sometime during the middle of Smitty's latest joke, eventually his hand loosened from around his son. He didn't even notice when Daryl got up and slipped away from them.   

Soon they all settled down again, each to get their breath back after suffering uncontrollable fits of laughter, thanks to Smitty. They were feeling much better for it too, apparently that was what they all needed. Although, it didn’t take Will long to revert back to his suspicious train of thought where his friend was concerned and he started to check up on him again. When he did, he found himself following the object of Mike's focused gaze before he even knew it.  

Realizing its target made his blood boil all over again because the bastard was staring straight at his son through the open kitchen door, through which  the sound of water running down the sink could be heard. Normally, Will would have at least yelled at him not to waste precious water but he barely noticed it then. Because Mike was staring at Daryl who had stretched out to be able to reach the shelf high above the sink to get himself a clean glass. Of course it was too high for him and he had to really stretch to get it. As a result of his efforts, his shirt had rucked up a little to reveal a smooth patch of skin, fortunately not a part that was scarred or injured recently to the father's immense relief.  

Mike was just staring at Daryl's flat midriff as if he was mesmerized. 

Naturally, Will couldn't stand the way he was looking at his son any longer, so he cleared his throat loudly, forcing the man to take his eyes off Daryl and turn his attention back to them. 

When he noticed that Will had seen him looking, he just smiled sheepishly: “Just checking if he needs help. We both know he ain't one for askin', don’t we, Will? Stubborn like his ole man, ain't he?' 

Will clenched his teeth at that but ignored it and scowled before he addressed his son: 'Go up to bed now, Daryl, and take your glass of water with you. I'll see ya in the morning.' 

Daryl didn’t need to be asked twice and he was out of there like a shot without looking at anybody. Will felt a deep sense of relief as he watched him go, anyway, he knew he must be bored and tired by now. This was no place for him to be after all, surrounded by all these drunk old men, soon to be very high  old men. More worryingly, despite opening up every window they had, Will knew soon that there would be fumes floating around that he didn’t want his son breathing in. 

'Now the fun really starts.' The host laughed but it sounded strained to the others' ears as they got their pipes out and he went to the secret place where he hid his little baggie of drugs. He glanced up at the clock and saw that it was already a quarter to ten. Damn! They could have started earlier if he'd sent Daryl to his room before, but it wouldn’t have been fair to him to send him to bed so early. He wasn’t a small child after all.  

Then the whole thing with Mike had got out of hand and eaten into their time, and Will had been distracted from the drugs since they hadn't finished drinking. In fact, there was still Smitty's beer to get through and so they still had quite a lot of drink left.  

'Now, this here is potent shit all the way from Amsterdam.' He took the courtesy to warn them first but received smirks all around for his trouble. 'Got it from Randy and he got it from a contact in Atlanta who knew a Dutchman. Enjoy.'  

He walked back into the room and made sure to open all the windows while his mind still was alert enough for him to worry about the effects of them smoking meth might have on Daryl. Despite it, he finally produced the bag with a dramatic flourish as he took his seat. 

Everybody thanked him as they started to fill and heat up their pipes – no questions asked. They all knew what to do and soon they were leaning back against their seats, lost in a haze of bliss. 

*** 

Will got proof enough of his suspicions later, confirming that he hadn't imagined a single thing that had passed between Mike and Daryl. Not the looks, not the meaning of the extra attention, or the sleazy undertone Mike had used when speaking to his son… Everything soon became very clear.  

After this new set of events played out by his best friend that evening, Will made a promise to himself to stay alert. Knowing for a fact that Mike wasn’t just somebody you kicked out of the house with no explanation. One thing he did know, he'd be damned to let someone else eyeball his son like that. 

For that  privilege  was his alone. 

He clutched the whiskey bottle in his lap, he still hadn't offered it around and he didn't intend to. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t stop drinking when he could feel that the hard liquor combined with the meth was starting to make him feel fuzzy. Something made him afraid to sit there with a cloudy judgement, but he didn't quite know why at the time. 

So, whenever he felt that sleep was just around the corner, he would smoke a little more of the drug to take care of the problem. He did this also to make sure that he stayed in control of the situation at all times – what had gone on that evening made him want to be more alert for Daryl's sake.

Will would’ve felt a lot more relaxed and able to let himself zone out completely if Merle had been home or had taken Daryl away with him tonight. With everything concerning Daryl, Will trusted Merle completely, knowing that the boy was usually a good big brother to him. When he was in a fit state, of course. 

But of course he wasn't at home on a Saturday night, not with his 18th coming next week. Usually, he didn't go out if Will informed him that Will's gang were coming around to party hard and that they would probably end up staying the night. Something they almost always did whenever they got together. Because lately, when Merle couldn't be there, he would normally shoo Daryl to stay the night at his best friend Marcus' house.   

Just like he sensed something about Mike – his mind whispered again to him, but he brushed it aside as paranoia. Yet, unbidden, his suspicions about his best friend refused to let him go. Had something happened when they'd stayed at Mike's place two years ago? Merle hadn't mentioned it but that didn't mean anything really. 

There usually was no smoke without fire.  

Even though Mike hadn't been included for a long time, Merle'd only become more reluctant to leave Daryl with any of his Dad's cronies since they got back home after their stay at Mike's. 

Slowly, reluctantly, Will was starting to fit the pieces of the puzzle together even if he really didn't want to.  

Still, he had to wonder about all this, especially as he recalled, things had cooled between Mike and Merle too, about the same time they had between Mike and Daryl. But he'd never asked why. Now he wished more than anything that he had. Did Merle know something about Mike that Will didn't? Or was it that he didn't want Daryl to see them getting drunk and taking drugs? Will stifled a chuckle at that thought, since that would be the pot calling the kettle black coming from Merle, that  
eternal junkie, but still... 

But he had to give it to him, he knew about drugs and what effects they had on people. He probably believed it better, no safer - if Daryl was with him, away from them all... 

What was he afraid of?

But this time Merle had failed in his big brotherly duty or more likely, he planned to show up later tonight. Yeah, Will mentally nodded to himself, somewhere in the haze he remembered Merle saying something about that before he left. This thought made him feel a little better.  

But not much.

Despite his best efforts to stay awake, his body's need for rest overrode his fear and worry for his youngest and he started to nod off where he was sitting. He had hoped that the meth would’ve kept him going... 

\----

Meanwhile upstairs, Mike had snuck in to where the boy was sleeping and he smiled when he saw how conveniently he was lying on his stomach. Grinning, he fished out the little jar of lube he’d brought just for this special occasion and then he took good care to sit down softly on the bed so as not to wake him up. He wanted to surprise him, after all.

Mike lifted his shirt up to get a good look at the perfection he'd only got a glimpse of earlier in the kitchen. Skin as smooth as…he drew in a breathe of awe but then he froze. Bastard, I told him... he thought angrily when he saw the healing welts and scars on his back and side criss-crossing each other, at least one long slash must have come from a knife. Even Mike didn't want to look to see if there were any fading bruises elsewhere on his body – he didn't doubt that there were.

Yet, even his indignation and disgust at his friend didn't stop him as he gave into temptation and traced a finger over them, jolting Daryl wide awake. When he noticed Mike there, he immediately tried to get off the bed, but instantly got pushed back down again as effortlessly as if he were a feather.  
'Ain't such a tough little man now without ya Daddy around, are you?' His pursuer taunted.

His slim body tensed up in alarm at that, prompting Mike to grab him roughly by the arm to prevent him from doing something stupid - like attempt to escape. Escape from what? Not like this little tango had been only one-sided, after all. He was the adult here and could read the juvenile's signals just fine.

But Daryl was still acting coy apparently, no doubt to build up the anticipation, the little minx.

'Fuck off', he hissed quite convincingly and wrenched his arm away, actually only succeeding because Mike allowed it. He knew by everything the boy had said during the evening, that deep down he wanted this. All he needed was just some well-directed guidance and expert seduction from an experienced adult like him and he'd have him begging for it in the end.

Mike pushed him down again at his second pathetic attempt to get off the bed. When Daryl rearranged his shirt modestly to try and cover himself again, Mike only shook his head and looked at him with that creepy, little smile on his face.  
‘Oh no, no, no, don’t you dare try to act hard to get. Flirted with me downstairs all night, shamelessly in front of all of them, if I might add.’ 

‘Did fuckin' not! Pissed me off is what ya did with ya sick questions!’

‘Yeah? ''Cos maybe there some truth in what I said? Ya done anythin' with a boy before?'

Daryl turned away and snarled in disgust.'No, sick fuck! Already told ya I ain’t wired that way!'

‘Well, now ya jus' parrotin' what ya Daddy said. How about you tell me how you really feel?'

‘You’re on somethin', asshole! I told ya I never...’

Mike grabbed him again, this time by the collar of his shirt, more to keep him put than anything else. He wasn't a strong advocate of violence at the end of the day, especially on those smaller and weaker than himself and he wasn't about to start now. Because what Joe had said was true. He did love this boy.

This unexpected move cut short Daryl's protests as he looked up at him in shock and Mike saw that he still had no idea what was going to happen and it curbed his own aggression and frustration towards him and he released him. Seeing his confusion, the man tried another tactic, hoping he would have more luck if he tried a more softer approach. Namely, try and win the boy's confidence but the whole time he was aware of time running out. If he didn't hurry up, he knew he wouldn't get to do anything with him, they could be interrupted at any time. 'It's OK, jus' between us two. Ya Daddy don't have to know...' He crooned. 'No need to pretend...'

He seized him by the top of the arms and started to manhandle him into the position he wanted him in.

'Let me go!'

Mike ignored his protests and just pushed him further into the mattress. Daryl clearly didn't know what to do as he in his fear and anger tried to bite him.  
‘Why, you stubborn little shit.’ Despite the close call, Mike couldn't hold back his amusement. But he knew he had to remind the boy who was boss now to subdue him. Next time it could be more than a insignificant finger he tried to bite off. Daryl let out a frustrated yell in his helplessness when he felt himself being flipped round again on his stomach.

To prove his point that he was the one with all the power in this relationship, Mike brutally pinned both his arms behind his back, holding his slender wrists with one hand no problem, before he replaced it with his knee. Daryl didn't cry out in pain but thrashed like a banshee as he fought him but he was no match.  
Mike knew that for him the not knowing what was going to happen must be the worst part. But he wouldn't keep his childish innocence for much longer, he planned to teach him all about it.

'Now, now...Behave.'

Daryl obeyed and went limp, probably realising that struggling did him no good anyhow. Because really, what was he trying to achieve? Even if Mike let his guard down and he got downstairs....what could he possibly tell them that wouldn't sound ridiculous? He doubted Will would believe him. Most likely, he would just end up beating the shit out of him for telling lies. Such disgusting lies at that when he knew that Daryl wanted this, therefore Mike simply refused to let him play the victim. He couldn't both have his cake and eat it.

Mike chuckled as he let Daryl think that he was going to show him mercy right before he dipped his fingers in the jar he'd already opened. He slathered them generously with lube and made sure that they were completely covered before he ran them down the boy’s crack. Daryl gasped at the unfamiliar sensation and squirmed and to Mike's meth and alcohol-befuddled brain it sounded like he liked it.  
'Sh...' Mike stroked his hair like he used to years ago. 'Ya Dad been whippin' ya again?' There was a hard edge to his voice. 'He fuckin' cut ya too?'

'No, he didn’t.' Daryl breathed out, with slightly more panic in his voice. 'Jus' get off me. I won't tell 'em...Uncle Mikey, I p...promise, but only if ya stop now.'

Mike scoffed and wondered why the little tease thought he could bargain with him or believe that he would ever stop. Getting this far with the others passed out downstairs had been the golden opportunity he'd been waiting for once he'd decided Daryl was old enough to take it.

 

To let him know that he had no chance of getting out of this, Mike caressed the side of his face while he cringed away. 'Don't worry, son. I won't hurt ya, not like ya Daddy does.' He knew he should have been sickened at what he was doing but he just couldn't stop tormenting the boy. 

'He doesn't!' Daryl fired back. 'Please, please, let me go.'

‘Keep telling yourself that you don’t want it if it makes you feel better, but we both know the truth, don’t we?’ When all Mike got in reply was Daryl kicking out at him in frustration, he picked the boy up from the bed, and pushed him down onto his knees.

‘Better start off this dance slow, huh? I’m disappointed…We just don't have time for me to prepare ya properly… Not with your dad and the others downstairs, he never was a heavy-sleeper, was he?’

‘Prepare me for what?’ Daryl demanded of him furiously.

The man smiled at the large innocent blue eyes looking up at him. ‘Sh...Can’t very well just shove it inside you, with you being as young as ya are…I’d split ya right open. Wouldn’t want that. I’ll make our first time special, I promise ya, Squirrel, with hardly no pain.'

'Don't call me that, fucker!' Daryl fired back but then went pale and bit his lip as the words started to sink in. 

Mike only grinned down at him. He was overjoyed now that he finally had the boy he'd lusted after for years right where he wanted him. Nobody would believe him, even if he did try and tell someone afterwards. In his drug-addled and boozed-up haze, Mike truly believed that he was invincible. Better, he thought smugly to himself, it looked like all the fight had suddenly left his victim when he fixed his eyes on a spot on the floor, looking exactly like he did earlier that evening when he'd felt like there was no place to go.

He couldn’t have been more wrong though, because when Daryl looked up, he was met with that famous, pitiless Dixon stare that belied the embarrassed flush on his face. Daring him again like he'd challenged two hours before. But that combination of vulnerability and defiance suited Mike just fine even after he checked himself from recoiling instinctively at that belligerent gaze.  
This boy was just too perfect! There'd be no holding back from him now, whatever he said to threaten or curse him.

'I warned ya before, Squirrel, ya play with the big boys, ya gonna get hurt. But ya didn't listen...' He shook his head at him mournfully as he unzipped his pants with deliberate slowness right in front of the frightened boy.

***

The second Will opened his eyes again he checked them over. They were pretty drunk and high by now, all of them -  Mark, Smitty, One-eyed Joe. Nodding with idiotic, blissful smiles on their faces and talking slurring nonsense.  But where was Mike? He was missing! Will sat upright then, panic and anger taking turns to churn in his gut, sensing that something was terribly wrong. If anything had happened to his son because he had passed out, failed to keep him safe...

That fear combined with the fact of Daryl's smallness compared to that giant of a man with more muscle than fat… he wouldn't have a chance against the bastard if... He couldn't allow himself to finish that thought, he was too afraid to. 

He furiously shook his head, trying to clear it as quickly as possible. “How long was I out for?” 

“About ten minutes,' Smitty laughed, infuriatingly oblivious. ‘It all got the better of ya, didn’t it?” He laughed before he added, 'What's up? Gettin' too old for it, Will?' 

He stood up, not bothering to reply. ‘How long’s Mike been gone?’ He snapped. 'And where did he go?' 

‘’Bout the same time as you went out...went up to take a piss, I reckon.' Smitty shrugged casually, his blood-shot eyes almost rolling back in his head.  

“Fucking hell…” Will wasn’t sure but he thought he saw a glint of understanding in the one eye Joe had left before he got up as well. Will waved him down again before he headed for the stairs with furious determination. Just before he started climbing them however, he did the one thing that might have put his mind at rest. 

“Daryl?!” No answer. Silence. “Bloody hell, boy! Better answer me, I’m not mad at ya, son, jus’ wanna check ya OK up there, ‘s all.” 

Still no answer. But had Will really expected one? 

‘Son of a bitch…’ He cursed under his breath as he started to make his way up the stairs as quickly and silently as he could. At the same time his heart was pounding in his ears and anxiety squeezing his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He prayed that he wouldn't drop down dead of a heart-attack. 

His stomach wasn’t doing much better as it seemed like he was carrying a barrel of dread, heavy as lead in it for what he would find.


	16. Squirrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow! The last chapter ended on a real cliffhanger – a special treat for all our fans! Let's just hope that Will gets there in time and that Mike gets dealt with properly. Sorry for the long delay – starting a new job, being sick for 3 weeks and my co-writer's dog getting sick meant we couldn't update as often as we wanted to. So here’s another treat for you all, another long chapter ;)
> 
> Graphic descriptions of child sex abuse - so if you're sensitive, please don't read!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember: comments and kudos are love – give it to us!

Wow! The last chapter ended on a real cliffhanger – a special treat for all our fans! Let's just hope that Will gets there in time and that Mike gets dealt with properly. Sorry for the long delay – starting a new job, being sick for 3 weeks and my co-writer's dog getting sick meant we couldn't update as often as we wanted to. So here's another treat for you all, another long chapter ;) Thanks for your patience!

Graphic descriptions of child sex abuse so if you're sensitive, please don't read!

Reviews are love so give it to us!

***

When he reached the top of the stairs, Will realized that Mike was nowhere to be seen. He knew one thing for sure though, he needed to take a piss first before he checked on Daryl. In his drug and booze-induced confusion, it seemed to him that someone was in the bathroom and assuming that someone was Mike, he growled in irritation at being forced to wait to use the toilet in his own home.

He let out a long breath, telling himself his feelings of misgivings were all in his head – just junkie paranoia as he came down from the meth. Still, it was hell of a rapid come-down, maybe the shit hadn't been so red-hot like he'd been told it was. Yes – that must be it.

Thinking no more of it, instead of turning left to Daryl's room, he took a right to the bathroom, deciding to take his chances. When he found it unoccupied, he was filled with relief, not with alarm like it should if he was sober and clear in his head.

As soon as he'd emptied his aching bladder, his legs gave way suddenly, forcing him to lean against the wall for support before he slid down with his back against it. His head drooped to his chest and he found himself unable to resist the tide of sleepiness as it hit him in the aftermath of an evening of heavy-drinking and drug-use.

Will, oblivious to what was happening to his youngest son, passed out.

Meanwhile, Mike was having the time of his life a few rooms away – well, he would have been if Daryl didn't fight him every step of the way. He'd been forced to give up on the idea of taking him completely – he'd save that treat for when they were really alone and could relax properly like he planned one day. So, cursing the waste of good lube, he silently vowed to make the little brat pay for his persistent stubbornness and settled on having him on his knees instead for a blow-job.

He'd shoved himself half inside Daryl's mouth, but the boy's extremely sharp teeth kept reminding Mike of their presence whenever the teenager was in the grip of panic. Which was pretty much all the time by now. He felt a little guilty about that, but not enough to stop. It was too late to go back now, wouldn't do either of them any good. Besides, he had way too much to lose to be able to forgive himself if he lost everything without getting to do what had been plaguing his thoughts for years.

Despite the boy's throaty whimpers of distress, that thought made him shove himself even deeper inside the delicious surrounding wet warmth. Daryl gagged and closed off his throat entirely as an answer, making Mike growl in frustration. He couldn't believe that it had ended so abruptly when it seemed they'd been finally making progress.

'Stop it.' He gripped Daryl's hair tighter in warning with his fist. 'I'll play nice if you play nice. You just remember that.'

He'd quickly found himself exhausting every approach to get him all nice and docile. Being gentle and patient or using brute force and threats – nothing seemed to work. It seemed that whatever he did or said – even his attempts to reassure him - had the opposite result – if only he had more time to work on him. The kid only became more fearful and therefore more obstinate, even though Mike wasn't really hurting him. He should have known – the boy was a Dixon after all.

Fed up with Daryl's lack of effort, he pulled at his hair again. 'Thought I told ya to play nice? Come on, just be a good boy for Mikey and no one needs to get hurt.'

Mike was forced to stifle a moan and tilted his head back as he was suddenly overcome with a wave of pleasure. It seemed like at last his words had got through to him and he'd calmed down enough to do the job properly. Giving him a glimpse at what this blowjob could turn into if just given time and a little guidance. Unfortunately, the pleasure only lasted seconds by which time, Mike had gotten more than a little carried away in the wonderful sensations. Like clockwork, that made the boy panic all over again and he felt those damn teeth grazing his dick - far too close for comfort.

With a sigh of disappointment, he gave up on oral because he'd never be able to get the boy submissive enough in time. So, forced to withdraw, Mike slid himself out but not without accusingly gripping Daryl's chin tightly and forcing him to look up at him. Doing that though, he also glimpsed the wetness sticking to the youth's eye-lashes – clearly tears about to fall which also dampened down the experience somewhat. Now it was suddenly harder pretending that Daryl was a willing pupil.

'You just had to ruin it when you were doing so well.'

Mike took care not to raise his voice to scare him any further, but that didn't seem to matter one bit. The teenager looked up at him with a mixture of pure fear and anger in his eyes, before he found his voice: 'I couldn't breathe, asshole! Not with ya dick in my mouth!'

'Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Thought this is what you wanted… Those looks you've been giving me the whole time, pouting at me with those pretty lips of yours to show me what ya could do for me...'

'I NEVER! When did I ever give you that idea, huh?'

'More than a few times, kiddo. More than a few times. But what upsets me the most, after everything I've done for you, is that ya have the nerve to call me an asshole right to my face. Twice now.'

'I have the nerve? Look at what you're doin'! And I only called ya that 'cos ya fuckin' are one!'

'Smart. Now, shut up and let's try this one more time.' Mike let a little more of his anger show in his voice to tell Daryl that he wasn't going to let him get to him.

'Tell you what… If you do it without your teeth this time, I'll be forever in your debt. Think about it... I'll be there to protect you whenever Daddy Dearest gets a little too happy usin' you as his own personal punch-bag...' He lowered his voice confidentially as he crouched down next to the boy. 'You'd have money, clothes, food, whatever ya want.'

'I'd rather let him beat me 'til next Sunday before askin' or takin' anythin' from the likes of you!'

Mike gave him a toothy smile in reply; 'If you keep on fighting me, however, I'll make ya life living hell and I'll start by telling ya Daddy and Merle that ya asked me to come in here.'

'I was asleep, ya had no business coming in here!'

'Keep telling yourself that. You know, you playing hard to get is getting tiresome, son. Only thing it does is making me want you all the more, so you should really do yourself a favour and work with me so that this can be over and done with. It's just a little blowjob after all, so why all this fighting? Or are you just trying to drag this out until someone finds us, that it?'

Daryl blushed furiously and shook his head when actually, that's exactly what he'd been hoping for. Although the idea of his Dad or one of the other men coming in there and seeing them like this made him feel sick to his stomach. But at least it would all stop and Mike would be thrown out of the house.

'Ahh...ya know if ya Daddy comes up here and sees us, he's jus' gonna blame you? Take my side?'

That made Daryl furious. 'No, he wouldn't! He'd fuckin' kill ya on the spot!'

'Yeah, maybe.' Mike agreed in a surprising u-turn before he brightened up again. 'But then you'd be next on the list for a whippin'. Because he'll think that you must have led me on.'

'You' re a fuckin' liar! He'd never believe that!'

Mike smiled back at the boy who was doing his best to look brave, but his voice trembled, betraying his doubt whether or not his own father would believe him in a situation like this. Mike almost felt sorry for him. Although he knew full well, him as the adult would get the blame. Always. But Daryl didn't know that.

'What do you say? I probably went too far too fast, huh? Believe it or not, this is the first time I've done this. But I can learn to take it slower if you're willing to learn too.'

As he spoke, he couldn't help but let one of his hands slide down across Daryl's chest and stomach where they were sitting, he just couldn't resist. But his hand was slapped away with surprising strength for someone so young.

'Easy. I won't even make you take the whole thing in your mouth this time. No reason to panic.' Mike crooned as he got up on his feet and grabbed Daryl by the arm to hoist him up on his knees once again. 'Now, open up.'

'No, don't...' Daryl shook his head and stubbornly pressed his lips tightly together when the man tried to open his mouth again.

Mike sighed and backed him up against the wall thinking it would probably be easier to subdue him if he was cornered. Of course that wasn't the case, because only seconds later Daryl got to his feet quicker than anything Mike had ever seen. As he ran for the door, clearly holding back sobs of disgust and fear he aimed a vicious 'Fuck you' over his shoulder at the man. Unfortunately, despite taking Mike by surprise, he found himself almost immediately enveloped in his strong arms that refused to let him go.

'Now play along! 'Cos you don't really have a say in all of this... ' Mike lectured as he began to drag him over to the bed with him.

'Let me go! Dad!' He didn't give up on trying to get away.

'Shhh!' He hissed in the boy's ear, making him flinch in his arms. He remained standing with him in his arms right beside the bed instead, taking a few deep breaths.

Then it dawned on Mike, he must be acting out like this because he was scared. He was a big man and he was just a boy – smaller than most his age and the difference in their size was huge. Naturally it was the same with the other parts of their bodies. Suddenly, Mike spoke a little more softly to him as he held him, 'Don't make such a fuss, I promise I'll go easy on ya, it bein' ya first time 'n' all, no matter what we end up doin'. Although, I will have to punish ya a little for the disrespect ya showed me tonight…'

'I'm sorry...'

Taken aback at the boy's sudden submissiveness, Mike ruffled his hair, feeling himself getting harder by the minute, but he was determined to drag this out to its inevitable conclusion to get what he wanted in the end. He had to make sure that the boy blamed himself so he wouldn't go blabbing to his brother or his Daddy.

'Don't you worry, said I ain't gonna hurt ya. Jus' let me show ya how good it can feel...' With those words he reached down with one hand, enveloping the smaller dick and gave it a light squeeze. He was turned on beyond belief doing this, but of course Daryl wasn't, he bucked away and tried to claw at the arms that held him in a death-grip.

''No! Don't touch me! I don't want you to show me anything! Just get out!'

'Look at you, still acting all feisty. Thought ya would have given up by now.'

"They'll fuckin' kill you! I swear they will!' Daryl snarled. 'Merle! Dad! Help!'

But Mike just smiled and held the struggling, smaller body tighter to him. 'Calm down. I know you're scared. Won't even put all of it in you the first time, if ya don't want me to, that is.'

He knew that he was running out of time yet he was enjoying building up the anticipation to the event. He knew the more guilty about everything he got Daryl to feel, the less likely he was to tell his family.

Especially if he succeeded in making Daryl believe it was all his fault...Mike knew he could use this to his own advantage. But the kid showed no signs of backing down anytime soon. Eventually Mike knew that he would, one could only struggle for so long, especially when who you were up against was so much bigger and heavier.

Older, hungrier and more determined.

He smiled when he thought about the boy's father and the other men downstairs who were all oblivious to what was going on. It excited Mike as much as Daryl fighting back did.

As events in his son's room escalated, Will stirred inside the bathroom where he still was sitting against the wall. He had been rudely awakened by the voice of his youngest calling loudly for him suddenly snapping him wide awake. Just when he thought he had imagined it, he heard him clearly again, calling for Merle first and Will right after. Although this time it sounded more muffled. He cursed himself for falling asleep like that when everything rapidly came back to him. Mike. Staring his youngest son's body up and down, making inappropriate remarks all evening…

The worst thing was the guilt-trip because all of this was his own fault – this could've probably been avoided if he had pressed Merle a little further two years ago about Mike. Will knew that something had been terribly wrong for Merle to just take Daryl and leave like that. He had given up on questioning Merle about it after a few attempts. But he hadn't been able to brush it under the carpet, couldn't just pretend that he hadn't known that there was more to it than Merle had told him. As a result of his own stupidity he had now let the bastard back into their lives...near his son... And this was Will's punishment for it but Daryl was taking it for him instead.

He stood up too fast and swayed on his feet as a result, he had to take a breather before he could go on.

The fact that he called for his big brother first instead of him irritated the hell out of Will, but now was not the time to dwell on such trifles. Not when his youngest was in such deep trouble.

A deep frown suddenly furrowed between his eyebrows as he got closer. He cupped his ear to Daryl's bedroom door to listen, and he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

'Now, be a good boy, open up and stop fighting me. Ya don't jus' wave a red flag at the bull and expect not to get charged at...'

'Dunno what ya talkin' about! Leave me alone!'

Will couldn't stop himself smiling at Daryl's biting retort.

'And they won't believe you, no matter what ya say!"

'Of course they will.' Mike used that soft voice of his that spoke volumes of just how cocky the bastard was. Listening to his silky tones at odds with how he was threatening his defenseless son and what he was threatening him with, slowly but surely made Will sobering up.

'Stop! I don't wanna do…'

Daryl cries were cut off abruptly, Will just knew that the asshole had covered his mouth with one of his huge hands to shut him up.

'Now, now, don't you be like that.' Was the only callous response to Daryl's obvious distress. That didn't stop the teenager from stubbornly trying to get away again, however.

He must've done something right to force Mike to take away his hand. Will's smile grew indeed when he heard his attacker suddenly hiss out in pain. Will just hoped that Daryl had taken a good chunk out of the bastard.

Filled with hope now, his son had started to fight back with an even louder voice.

'DAD!

'Why you… ya bit me again?...You jus' don't know when enough is enough, do you?'

'Next time I'll bite even harder if ya don't get off me! Merle! Dad!...Da...!' He yelled.

Will clenched his teeth when he heard his son's muffled protests as the hand was back covering his mouth, no doubt even tighter this time.

'Remember, I'm in charge here and you got nowhere to run. Why ya still fightin' me for? 'Bout time you just give up the fight you know ya ain't gonna win.'

Will hissed at that – the sheer cowardice of the brute – a full-grown bear of a man threatening a thirteen-year old kid like that.

From where he was, Will could hear his son's frustrated kicks from inside the room, accompanied by chuckling from Mike. Suddenly, Daryl was allowed to speak again. Now, Will could hear just a hint of panic creeping into his son's voice when it dawned on him that Mike wasn't fooling around. That he meant what he said and that he was going to go through with it.

Will frowned in confusion, it was like Mike didn't even care that they might be heard anymore. Or more likely, he got off on hearing Daryl's reactions to what he was saying.

What was even more strange, Will had to wonder, why hadn't the bastard gone through with it? Even though Will was glad Mike had taken his time before any real damage was done, he had to wonder why. Why dragging it out with all this sweet-talking and taunting beforehand?

'I ain't your daddy, I won't punish you the way he does. Relax…'

Outside the door, Will was fuming, not only at Mike's words but what it suggested. That he must have seen the results of the last punishment last week from the accident with the beer. That meant that the asshole must have already stripped him. Will knew that he couldn't stay out there for much longer, it was a dangerous line between waiting at the right moment, and missing out on the crucial time to get in there to save his son. If he had stripped him, it suggested more than anything that Mike was getting ready to do something to him.

Something real bad.

Will could hardly hold himself back, but he had to know the truth. Mike trying to convince Daryl that Will was the Devil was beyond the pale. What was giving the boy some well-deserved Dixon discipline compared to what that bastard was trying to get his son to do? What Mike was doing was plain sick – twisted. Perverted.

'Stop it, I'm warning you. Just do what I tell you and everything will be over before you know it. What I want you to do doesn't hurt.'

'I can't…Please, I'm sorry for everything… I didn't mean to bite you…'

I'm sorry? Had Daryl really said that? Still, Will had to admit to himself that Daryl had shown weakness pretty quickly, but then again, he couldn't possibly know how long Mike had been at him. Will shook his head because he knew that neither of his sons were walkovers who backed down like that, but Daryl knew he had less than zero of a chance of escaping Mike and he was clearly terrified by now.

What interrupted his thoughts then was his former best friend taunting his teenage son who he could tell was on the verge of tears. He knew by experience how menacing the big brute could be and Daryl was just a kid. He had to keep on reminding himself of that.

Deep-down, Will hadn't rushed in there because he was hoping that this was all just a bad dream or some sick drug-induced nightmare. He was hoping that he got Mike all wrong, that he was just genuinely trying to teach Daryl some manners not to call his elders assholes. Be it a particularly sick and twisted way... But even he didn't really believe that and it would be fair to say that the father was grasping at straws – anything to excuse this outrageous behavior.

Of course, Will wasn't going to let him really hurt Daryl but he was playing wait and see.

'You'll get nothing good out of fighting me, Squirrel. Besides tirin' yourself out, that is. Better jus' give it up and let me do what I want. After I'm through, neither your daddy or brother will believe you. They've both seen for themselves how ya used to come crawlin' into my lap...'

'I never...never meant for this to…' Daryl protested angrily, out of breath from continuously struggling against his tormentor. 'That was fuckin' years ago!' He exploded. 'I don't want...'

'Nothing you say is going to convince me. I know you want this...jus' like the little tease ya really are...'

Will drew in a sharp intake of breath of rage when he heard Mike call him that and sprang forward before he checked himself. He didn't want to blow his cover just yet, he had to hear more unless the psycho started to really hurt his son with more than just words like he seemed intent on doing at the moment.

Will raised his eye-brows in surprise when he heard a hard crack of hand meeting flesh followed by a shocked whimper. Under normal circumstances, he would curse at his son at the weakness he was showing, but right then he just found himself wincing along with him.

The thing that enraged him most beyond belief, was that the fact that someone else was punishing his boy. He wasn't going to stand for that.

'Come on, son, sorry for that but ya jus' had to keep pushin' me, answerin' back like that. You used to come onto me all the time and now ya runnin' cold - can't blame a guy for gettin' a little confused.'

'Kids sit in people's laps when they like them, that's all it ever was! Felt safe with ya, I guess!'

'Oh, don't lie to me.' Mike crooned at him.

'I ain't!'

'Ya knew exactly what ya were doin' the whole time. Playing your cards just right – flirtin' a little to keep me interested, but never lettin' me touch ya, jus' like a highschool tease.'

'Get off me! I didn't do nothin'!'

'...fluttering those long eyelashes at me...even tonight...Fuckin' flirtin' with me right in front of them… Especially when you were looking at me from under your daddy's arm.' Mike carried on as if Daryl hadn't just spoken.

As Will listened to how the bastard continued to bully his teenage son as if he hadn't heard him, keeping himself under control was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. But he wanted to hear if Mike would dignify Daryl with an answer as to how he had made him feel safe at the same time that it implied Will didn't.

Somewhere in Mike's sick and twisted mind those words must have hit home because in the end he did answer him, without a trace of mockery in his tone. It was a smart move on the part of Daryl, appealing to the past and the times Mike had protected him like that. Hoping to get him to stop, no doubt.

'Don't get me wrong, I liked having you around. But somewhere along the road, I had to put some distance between us, 'cos someone might have noticed, started talkin'. Things were jus' gettin' too hot and heavy between us and you were too young. God knows why I felt the way I did 'bout ya...I ain't a pervert or a homo but ya jus' kept on temptin' me. You wouldn't leave me alone even when I pushed ya away. Now, if you would only show a little bit of gratitude for everythin' I've done for you, things might turn out differently...'

'Ya ain't done nothin' for me for ages!'

'Doesn't matter now, does it? You'd still be a little brat about this, that's just how you are, tough and spunky. I did recently help you, even though you don't know it. Everything comes back to you sitting in my lap just begging for affection, though. But we both know better, don't we? Your father and brother have seen it for themselves, that's why they won't listen to you.'

'They know that I was jus' a little kid when I did that!'

'Well, ya sure ain't now, son.' He must have groped him because Daryl let out a squeak and Mike chuckled.

Will heard his former best buddy laugh and it was a cruel, mocking sound. It was true, Daryl had 'loved' his Uncle Mikey once and he hadn't been shy showing it, but not in the sick way the bastard was twisting it. He was barely in his teens for fuck's sake and didn't know a thing about sex and Will (even Merle to some extent) had tried to keep his innocence. And now Mike planned to rip all that away from him.

Will felt sick, and the rage and nausea threatened to take him over when he heard the squeak of bedsprings when the huge bastard moved.

Things went quiet for a few seconds before Daryl broke it by snarling: 'Stop messing up my hair!'

Will had unwelcome images flit through his head of Mike sitting next to his son on the bed petting his hair while trying to brainwash him. He knew he could relax then on Daryl's part, as the pervert wouldn't ever get through to him if slow seduction was what he was after. Will desperately hoped that was the case and that Mike wouldn't turn forceful. Yet, those threats before had been pretty menacing and sick and spoke against the man.

'Now, now, don't be like that, Squirrel.'

Now Mike's voice had turned oily, coaxing instead, and it made the listening father grimace in disgust.

'They'll believe me, I know they will! Merle got me away from ya, remember, last time we stayed! Probably saw that you weren't right in the head and ya got my dad really mad today, too!'

"Merle didn't see anything, son, and ya father's passed out on the couch, sleeping like a baby like the rest of 'em. Ain't no-one coming in, runnin' to save you. And, as for them believing you… that's where you're wrong. Don't ya know, they always believe the person, especially the grown-up – Mike stressed this word for emphasis - with the most convincing story? Everyone around here thinks I'm a decent guy – I'm big around here and they respect me. Ain't a soul that'll believe you - sorry, kid. Because where I'll be able to speak whole sentences, you'll just be a snivellin' wreck with tears running down that pretty-boy face of yours."

Hearing this, Will had to fight back the urge to rush in to drag the bastard the hell away from his son and beat him to a pulp when he heard that.

But once again, he forced himself to wait, he had to hear more to be sure. Because he still felt like he was caught up in some horrible nightmare and he prayed that he would wake up soon. He'd known the other man his entire life, and sometimes Mike's ways of teaching other people a lesson had been a bit unorthodox. What was saying that wasn't what he was doing now? That he by the aid of the drugs simply was taking things too far, not thinking about the fact that Daryl was just a kid? Bending forward even closer, he heard a pause of a few seconds as he listened intently before he heard his son renew his spirited resistance.

"They'll fuckin' kill you! Get off me!' Frustrated, Daryl had obviously tried to get away.

Equally frustrated, but for different reasons, Mike answered: 'Now, do what you're told...otherwise...I'll do that other thing instead and I don't think you'll want that. That really hurts...' He purred at him.

'No! Stop, please! Told ya I don't want to!"

"Not like ya have much of a choice now, do ya? Besides it's not fair. Ya been poutin' at me and askin' me for it for years and now ya wanna back out?' Can't have that."

"I won't do it!' He declared with his voice cracking.

Daryl had broken down completely by now in his terror - Will could hear his boyish sobs and feel them tearing at something deep in his chest in sympathy.

'Nooo, son, shh. Don't worry, daddy's here and I won't let him hurt you…' he whispered in horror both at the situation and at himself. How he could justify standing outside the door and eavesdrop without lifting a finger to help him?

Despite himself, he was getting turned on by the sick bastard talking dirty to his 13 year old and his pants were feeling tight around his member. Was that why he was still listening like he was paralysed and failed to take action? After all, hadn't he fantasised about getting him to do the very same thing Mike was talking about? Will told himself that thinking about doing something was very different from actually doing it. Anyway, he knew one thing for sure. He'd be more gentle with him than this monster.

No matter how badly Will wanted to some days, he would never hurt Daryl that way. He took care of those urges like he'd done in the past, by taking his inner-demons out on the boy in different ways instead.

He was still pretty fucked-up by the drugs because Daryl weeping brokenly like that as if in defeat would alone be enough for him to finally break down the door, but he found that he couldn't move just yet. He could clearly hear the change in Mike's voice. It still had that wheedling undertone but now it had become embued with a dangerous hint of impatience.

'Let's try this again shall we? Might be easier for ya this way…' Silence. 'No? Ya still don't want to do that? Even when you know what's coming next? Well, what can I say? You're very brave, Squirrel.'

The air seemed to stand still for the father who waited for the other man to continue. When he did, Will's frown only deepened.

'Right then...guess we'll do the other thing I mentioned instead after all- the one I was preparin' ya for before I changed my mind.'

No answer, only Daryl's sobs getting more ragged and his breathing shallower and faster in terror. But still he said nothing, didn't plead for mercy as if he knew it would be no use.

His tormentor sighed exaggeratedly. 'That's a shame, I didn't plan to go the whole way with ya tonight... was gonna ease ya in nice and slowly… But if ya insist…'

The enraged father turned away and grimaced in disgust as he took a wild guess at what his former friend wanted his 13-year-old son to do as much as at the sissy name, demeaning to a Dixon. How long had he been calling him that?

How long Mike had called Daryl 'Squirrel' was the least of Will's problems as the bedsprings creaked again when Mike shifted his massive bulk on the small child's bed, and the sounds of Daryl desperately trying to fight him off could be heard.

To no avail, of course.

'Relax, told you I won't hurt ya. I care about ya too much and I hope you learned something out of all of this...There, there, don't cry, everything will be OK.'

'Don't cry?' Will clenched his fists and snarled, not caring if he heard him. Don't fucking cry? He frowned and wondered if the charade was now over and done with, if it indeed was just Mike's way of teaching Daryl a lesson. Pretty sick lesson, if that was all it was Whatever it was, didn't matter because he'd stepped over the line this time. He was going to pay dearly for it. He'd got Daryl terrified, humiliated, made him feel helpless without showing any signs of mercy. The father knew his son wasn't going to get over it for a very, very long time. Merle might have shrugged it off but Daryl was different.

He got his answer soon enough though when Daryl, serious as ever, cried out again: 'No, don't!'. His protests full of terror, seemed to echo around the house or at least in Will's head.

Then he felt something in the atmosphere change, and he got as far as to reach for the doorknob, but something held him back from turning it. And like that, everything went dead-quiet again and Will thought of rushing in there to stop any more traumatic minutes passing by for his son, but something held him back.

In reality, Mike had covered both Daryl's mouth and nose to take away as much sound as he possibly could as he inserted one of his fingers inside the struggling boy. The next thing he said made Will go cold all over when he heard Mike delivering the next colorful sentence without even bothering to lower his voice: 'Ask and you shall receive, then… Oh, wait, how could I forget? First tell me… Do you think you'll want it slow and gentle or do you want it rough? Either would be just fine with me.' 'Stop! No, please, just stop!'' He heard his son sob and Will could just tell from his voice that he was panicking. Now there was no doubt in the father's mind of what was happening anymore. 'It hurts, don't touch me like that!' That did it, Daryl's last tearful, pitiful plea cut through hi haze of stunned disbelief like a knife, waking Will up and he was suddenly sober as a judge. He couldn't see through the door but he could easily imagine what his friend – the man he had known from childhood, grown up with – was doing to his son.

Full of murderous rage, he slammed the door open without warning so hard that it nearly fell off its hinges.

To be met with a sight that would haunt him in his dreams until the day he died. But it also would excite him in his fantasies no matter how much he tried to push it away.

Mike, all 240 lbs of pure muscle, with his pants round his ankles, on top of Daryl who also had his pyjama pants down around his. His son shaking and sobbing and Will was only glad that the bastard hadn't had a chance to fuck him yet. A few seconds later and he would have. Will also noticed with rage the red mark on Daryl's cheek that was facing him in the shape of a huge handprint. He must have struck him harder than Will had initially thought.

'Get the fuck off of my son, ya sick, filthy pervert!' He roared, only dimly aware of the sudden quiet that descended over the whole house. But still no one came running up the stairs to see what was going on. There was just that eerie silence because no one wanted to get in the way of a Dixon and the object of his wrath. The only thing that managed to make Will think twice going over there and beating the shit out of Mike right then, was his son, lying there and looking terrified out of his wits. He didn't want to add to his fear, so by some miracle, he managed to stay right where he was.

He suddenly wished Merle was home with him. He didn't know if he could deal with this sack of shit all by himself.

Mike immediately got off Daryl who only continued to sob and bury his face in his pillow. After a second or two, the boy had the presence of mind to pull up his pyjama bottoms before he curled up into a ball on the bed, still hiding his face.

Will addressed him tenderly from where he was standing with his fists clenched in rage, wishing that he was close enough to offer a comforting touch instead of the touches he'd endured only seconds ago. 'It's OK, baby. Ya jus' stay there 'til Daddy gets back. He's gotta take the trash out.'

Without lifting his face from the pillow, Daryl nodded.

Mike started to stammer. 'Ya know, it wasn't what it looked like.' Will could swear his wrath almost took a corporeal form right in front of him. Meanwhile, the usually very articulate man babbled and Will was pleased to hear that he sounded just as terrified as his son had done only minutes ago. Will looked away in sickened revulsion from his erection as he shamefacedly did up his fly. 'Jus' a game, was'all.'

'Ya expect me to believe that, ya piece of shit? I saw what ya were doin' to him!'

Daryl started crying louder at his raised voice but still didn't lift his face from the pillow.

'It's OK. Ain't mad at ya. Ain't no fault of yours. Not ya fault.' Will crooned at him, and as much as his hands ached to comfort him, he knew that for now he could only do it with words because Mike had to be dealt with. Will would be damned if he let this pervert anywhere near his son longer than he had to be. 'Don't worry, he ain't gonna touch ya ever again. Daddy won't let him.'

Mike visibly blanched at that...at everything it implied. 'I'm sorry...I'm so sorry.. he jus' looked so cute an' all, lyin' there...It was the meth...He nodded hopefully, eyes pleading for understanding. ' Ya know what I'm talking 'bout, Will, I know you do...'

Will was left momentarily speechless by this and what exactly Mike meant by that. If he were to let his paranoia get the best of him he would think Mike was on to him and how he felt about his own son. Thankfully, with everything that had happened the last minutes Will knew Mike was talking about the drugs and he relaxed a little when Mike's next self-serving words left his mouth.

'I didn't mean to get so high and lose control... ain't used to it and it fucked me up, made me do things I wouldn't normally do...'

'Ya blamin' the drugs now, ya fuckin' coward? Don't ya know that's the oldest one in the book - they're just an excuse for doing shit ya always wanted to do?'

'Things just got out of hand… The meth took over otherwise I would never have... Come on, you've done real nasty shit when you were high before.'

'Difference between you and me is that I never tried to fuck no kids when I was!'

Just at that moment, something on the floor caught his eye. When he glanced closer, he immediately spotted the discarded jar of lube. He didn't recognise it as his own or Merle's (that boy was a horndog if ever there was one) and he quickly strode over while keeping Mike in his line of vision even as he bent down briefly to pick it up. ''What's this then?' He threw it with a look of disgust in the other man's face, by then Mike was too stunned to speak.

'Ain't got an excuse for bringin' this along with ya, have ya? You planned this long before tonight even, I bet!' He wiped his hands on his pants as if he felt contaminated just by touching it.

The other's man's mouth opened and closed with no sound coming out. It was clear that he had no answer to that and with his silence, he sealed his own fate.

Will pushed the other man out of the room with all the force he could muster, but it wasn't really necessary. Mike didn't even try to resist – as if he knew he deserved everything he got and was resigned to his fate.

The enraged father savagely kicked both his feet from under him without warning, then sent him flying down the stairs where he landed at the bottom with a satisfying thud.

Will was angry not just at him but also at himself – for not seeing. Letting that pervert near his sons for all those years – was it the first time he touched Daryl? Will prayed it was, but he didn't really think so – not with all those times he used to spend at his house. He drew in his breath and his chest hitched at his next thought.

Had he touched Merle?

He shook his head because something told him he hadn't. The man would have got his dick bitten off if he'd tried something like that with Daryl's older brother.

Something about Mike's need and almost aggressive way of trying to coax his son told Will that he was new to this. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking, what did he know. Maybe he was just trying to salvage a silver lining out of the fucked-up situation.

First offence or serial offender, it would make no difference to him in the end.

There was still no response from the others of the party – in fact when Mike tumbled to the bottom, striking his head once or twice on the stairs, they began to leave by the front door. Each man gave them curious looks as they left. Will should have known they wouldn't be any help and he ignored them.

'Never knew ya liked to fuck little boys! How many, huh?' The father's voice rose in rage, not just for Daryl but for all the other possible victims Mike may have molested as he strode down the stairs. He was dead set on not letting his prey get away. But the groaning big heap at the bottom seemed unable to move, had he broken his back? Will fucking hoped so.

'None, 'cept for him. He's the first. I swear.' Mike had come to almost completely and was moaning, clutching himself as Will arrived at his destination next to him.

When the man looked up at him, Will was momentarily taken aback at the sudden change. Incredibly what he saw was nothing of that ashamed, almost regretful way Mike had looked at him when he got busted in Daryl's room, now what he saw was undisguised fury. Will put it down to the fact that the man probably knew he was going to die one way or the other for what he'd done tonight. With that, he had nothing else to lose.

Will sneered down at him and waited patiently to hear what he had to say. After all, even condemned men were allowed their last words.


	17. Justice is served

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Will going to kill Mike? Would it be a great loss to the world if he did?  
> And where the hell is Merle?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are love, let us have it :)

Meanwhile, Daryl had emerged from under the pillow from where he was doing his best not to hear what was going on downstairs, but he couldn't help it. He could barely hear Mike except for the occasional agonised screams and what sounded like low murmurs punctuated by groans and moans. They were very different to the ones before when Mike had made him take him in his mouth and he knew that his Dad was really hurting him.

Just hearing his voice was enough to make him shake uncontrollably.  
His throat hurt from where Mike had been less than gentle as he became more excited, his cheek was throbbing and on top of everything, he was worried sick. Even though his Dad had called him 'baby' (something he'd never done before) and seemed to be on his side when he rushed in, Daryl couldn't be totally sure he wouldn't blame him later on.  
Blame him like Mike had said he would and punish him anyway because maybe there was some truth in what Mike had said? That he must have given him the wrong idea somehow that he was willing or would be if only given time. Why had he tried to do what he'd tried to do otherwise? Why had he acted like he didn't exist for so long if Daryl hadn't done anything wrong in the first place?

Just then a series of particularly violent shudders shook his narrow frame and he was overcome with the need to rush out of his bedroom to hang his head over the toilet to vomit. After that, he was going to brush his teeth until his gums bled and scald his skin scarlet under the shower to erase any lingering scent of the man. He would try to erase the feel of those greedy, groping touches that seemed to have done their level best to devour him.

He clutched at his knees where he was sitting in the middle of his bed and surpressed a whimper when he could still recall the strange sensation of having Mike in his mouth – slick, slimy with his own spit, not to mention the distinct taste of him that he just couldn't get rid of. When he stood up, he was instantly reminded of the other thing Mike had nearly done before his Daddy came in. That weird gel was still in him, and at the same time as Mike had replaced his fingers with something much bigger, the man had forced his legs apart with not so gentle hands. His fingers had been slicked in the disgusting stuff and he had smeared what remained across Daryl’s bare skin. Worse than that, he could still feel the man's rough, ravenous touch that had hurt him combined with the panic of not being able to breathe properly when he'd been on top of him. Quickly followed by the revolting sensation of Mike pressing his...his...thing against his backside. Daryl couldn't suppress letting out a quiet sob of disgust at the memory. He didn't even think his Daddy could blame him for being terrified when he had felt the relentless pressure of it as the man prepared to slowly enter him.  
But he didn't get to, thanks to his Dad. But he'd been so horrifying close.  
Nevertheless, once he'd got some control over himeself, Daryl grimaced in disgust as he walked towards the door.  
He let out a few more muted sobs as he tried to push the memories away, but of course he couldn't and he dry-retched as a result.

After the heaves passed, he was left standing with his hand clutching the doorknob knowing it was crucial for him to be as quiet as possible. His dad for one thing had told him to stay put in bed and when Daryl didn't do exactly what he was told, one thing for sure was that his mistake would be pointed out to him afterwards.  
Usually involving pain.  
Lots of it.  
Merely fear of his Dad making him pay for Mike while he was at it made him take a step back. After all, if it wasn’t for him, his Dad wouldn’t be beating the shit out of his best friend right now.

Knowing that it was pretty unlikely that his daddy would hear him though, since he was caught up too much in the deadly serious conversation he was having with his former buddy gave him courage. Heart thudding in his chest, Daryl dared to open the door, and take a step forward out onto the landing. He wondered distantly if his father was going to kill Mike, feeling strangely detached about the possibility. Why couldn't he make himself care? Was his Dad really capable of murder? Hearing what he was saying and how Mike screamed and moaned in agony every now and then, it sure sounded like it just then.

When he felt his stomach turn again and the nausea attack him, Daryl decided to take the risk of being heard by them.  
He was just psyching himself up to make a break for the bathroom and got almost half way when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Mike’s voice more clearly. Even though he had been expecting to, it gave him the goosebumps from hell and he found himself standing with his back pressed up against the wall suddenly too scared to even move.

As a result he was forced to stay there and listen to how Mike’s voice suddenly changed as he now yelled angrily back at his father: 'Ya forget I know what ya did. To Merle too... ya cut 'em up, whipped'em and burned 'em with ya cigarettes! And I was good to them! So, if I'm sick, you’re no better.''

The boy cowered and uttered a timid whimper of terror and tried in vain to get his legs to work again. Because to Daryl just then, it seemed like the man was back in his room with him again. Freaked out at his body shutting down like that, feeling powerless to move, he took a few deep breaths instead. Yet the voices raged on and on downstairs and when Daryl realised that Mike wasn't coming up there, he managed to calm down enough to walk back to his own room on unsteady legs. As he closed the door behind him, he slid down against it with a deep sigh of relief before he sank his head miserably to his knees and wrapped his arms around them.

He still felt so dirty and ashamed and wanted to cleanse himself of Mike more than anything but he couldn't stop himself trembling, much less go back out there. It was better this way too, he had no way of knowing just how long his Dad was going to let Mike have it, and if he was back in his bed where he was supposed to be, there was far less chance of making him angry. Especially as he already sounded pretty upset and furious with Mike. If only he could make himself go to sleep, maybe he would wake up in the morning and all this would be like it never happened, just another bad dream...  
Somehow, in his emotional exhaustion, he managed to fall into an uneasy sleep with his back against the door.

...

As his son fell asleep upstairs, Will stared down at Mike, too furious to even reply at the gall of the man. Implying he was just as bad as him like that. He was also worried that the others would hear. It was true that he'd had to punish Daryl only last week for spilling his beer all over the carpet and wasting good booze when he was handing it over to him. The kid's damn hands were always so shaky. Mike had seen the results when he tore his clothes off, that must be it. But the necessary whipping was nothing compared to what the bastard had tried to do to him tonight.  
‘Stop bringing up old shit to make yourself look better! Ya can't compare a few lickings with what you tried to do to him!' Will finally found his voice again.

‘Maybe,...maybe I just wanted a little something back in return.' Mike flicked his tongue over his lower lip and even now, there was a little gleam of lust in his eyes that made Will want to kill him right then. 

‘A little something back from Daryl? A blow-job or lettin' ya fuck him – that what ya call 'gratitude'?’ He yelled, no longer caring if someone had decided to stick around for the show. He'd barely registered his guests leaving, he'd been so out of his mind with anger.

‘Of course not, not like that. I just wanted to bring out the father out in ya… protecting him like ya should.’

'Ya touch him when he stayed with ya before when ya were wantin' to 'bring out the father in me, ya useless fuck?' Will drew back his workboot and kicked the other man as hard in the gut as he could. 'What a pathetic excuse, even for you!'

Just the thought of him with his filthy hands all over his little boy was enough to make him see red again and he smiled with savage satisfaction when he thought he heard one or more of the bastard's ribs crack.

‘No! 'Course not!' Mike spluttered, groaning in agony, struggling to get even those short words out.

'You know, I might even have bought that if I hadn't seen the hard-on you had while pinning him to the bed so that he couldn't move! With him pleadin' with you to stop!' Will gave him an even harder kick and was gratified to hear him let out a scream of pain this time. 'But ya didn't, did ya?'

Will was shaking out of anger and pure tension, and he really wished he had someone by his side to back him up. He cursed the others mentally for their lack of support even has they had witnessed this and what came before. But he should have known the others would have got away as quick as they could – all of them were reluctant to take Mike on. Free-loading, useless sons-of-bitches, the lot of them...he cursed them silently.

Still, there was a good chance that they'd heard everything and would spread the word about what Mike was. What he'd tried to do to Daryl - it would be all over the village and beyond, well before the next day. So Will was sure if he failed to punish him sufficiently, other men -not these meth-heads he called friends - especially those who were parents, would eagerly take up the slack.  
If Mike was still alive by the end of this, that was. Will hadn't yet decided whether he was going to let him live or not and besides, maybe there were things worse than death...That got his imagination going and his lips twisted in a little mean grin of spite.

'How many boys?' Will demanded from him again when his victim had somewhat recovered. He hadn't been completely satisfied with the bastard's answer although deep down he knew he spoke the truth.

'Only Daryl – I swear on Maggie's grave...' The sound of Mike's thin voice threaded with pain brought him back to the present.

'Only Daryl! My son? That all?' Will screamed, besides himself with fury. He didn’t know how to best deal with all the rage he was feeling, he was momentarily taken aback with all the various emotions that were sweeping over him. Some even conflicting... Everything would be easier if he had someone to have his back and was by his side. Naturally, his thoughts flew to his eldest. Where was Merle when Daryl and him needed him the most? Off screwing some short-skirted floozy, he supposed. Will came to the conclusion that he was on his own, at least for the time being as he turned his attention back to the man lying on the floor in agony.  
‘By the time I'm finished, you’ll be drinking from a straw for the rest of your pathetic life. Ya gonna be beggin' for death, you fuckin' child-molester!'

Mike just lay there – dazed, with his forehead bleeding from the fall. Will noted with satisfaction that his leg was twisted at an unnatural angle beneath him, probably broken. Looking down on him in a weird mixture of hatred and pity, his eyes held a grim gleam of satisfaction because it appeared that he had sustained more injuries when he fell than Will had originally thought.

He shook his head at him. 'Why did ya do it, Mike? What got into you, huh?' His tone turned regretful – they both knew that this only had one possible ending. In this way, Will was saying goodbye to the man who'd been like a brother to him for most of his life, had his back, protected him and fought with him.  
This would be the last time he would address him as if he weren't already dead. Or one of the 'walking dead' on Death Row. 

'I...I don't know. I'm sorry!'

But even this did nothing to keep his rage in check as it surged back over him again.  
'Fuckin' piece of shit! Scum of the earth! My own son – how could ya? He was fuckin' cryin'!' Will screamed as he started to kick him all over his body without pause this time – but mostly in his already injured back and gut as the other man curled up into a ball on the floor, instinctively covering his head with his arms.  
'He was cryin', Mike. He was fuckin' cryin'!’  
Will's voice grew momentarily quieter as he took a brief respite to catch his breath before laying into him again, just as savagely.  
Mike tried to protect the most vulnerable part of him. He reminded Will of Daryl when he did that, but instead of making him stop, it only made him kick him harder.

'How could ya do it to any kid? He's thirteen fuckin' years old, for fuck's sake! That’s probably not the worst part of it though, huh? Been shooting him those dirty looks of yours for quite some time after ya ignored him for years. Now I know why. Oh, I ‘ve seen ya, I just refused to really see it, ya know? Now my boy's paid the price. Think you’re smart, a big man, for settin' on a kid like that?’

His own words only added more fuel to his fire even though Mike was in too much agony to reply. Even though the man was writhing in pain and was pleading for mercy by now, it wasn't enough. Would never be enough. How long would it take Daryl to get over it if he ever really did?

Will knew he himself wouldn’t. Not with the memory of what he was saying and doing to his sweet, innocent boy – and what he had nearly done to him – it was all burned into his mind forever. To top it all off, there were the things that the bastard had said and done to him behind closed doors before Will could get there. He would probably never know for sure what had happened unless Daryl told him. The images kept flashing before him...of things he had fantasised about doing himself with the boy. Will felt sick at himself.

Mixed up in all the tide of emotions was that of fatherly pride. The boy had fought back even if he had whimpered a little at a mere slap, or the fact that he’d started crying towards the end when he realised that Mike really meant to go through with it. This was one of those rare times where Will didn’t blame him for breaking down. Nevertheless, the most important thing was that his boy had stood his ground, long enough at least for him to get there, no matter what the scumbag had threatened him with. Not once did he make it easy on the much bigger man, even if he did have every odd stacked up against him. He’d been submissive, but he hadn’t given up until the very last second when Will kicked down the door to find Mike was on top of him. Just in time to carry out a rescue that had taken much too long.

The large man spat out a considerable amount of blood and looked up at him with a totally different expression in his eyes this time. Was he begging for mercy? Understanding or forgiveness?

'Please...I'll hand myself in to the cops...I know I'm sick...I won’t ever make the same mistake again...See... I always managed to deal with it before and not hurt anyone. But he was fightin' me every step of the way…making me angry and then everything went wrong. I swear I didn't mean things to go so far with him.’

“Course he was fightin' ya. He's a Dixon! Ya thought he'd go down easy?’

‘I never meant to go so far.’

‘Yeah, heard ya the first time. And I'm sorry, didn't realise that ya weren't going to fuck him, ya only wanted to shove ya dick down his throat. That's why ya were on top of him with both your pants down 'round ya ankles?' He scoffed. 'Who do ya think you’re foolin’? I heard ya! Ya call that breakin' him in slowly, huh?'

He straddled the other man and let his fists do the talking before he continued: “You were a real piece of work when you were sweet-talkin’ him, too. Ya jus' had to mark up his face first to get him in the mood, huh?’

‘You heard that? Took you long enough if that’s the---’ Now Mike's voice was full of accusation and surprise.

Will was taken aback momentarily and his fist was left frozen in mid-air. Focusing on his own anger and making Mike pay, he’d forgotten to keep track on everything he was supposed to have heard. Nevertheless, he recovered quickly enough when his fist connected with Mike’s temple. ‘Can ya blame me? Couldn’t believe my fucking ears! Don’t try to turn this around, I’m not the one who just tried to rape a 13-year-old kid!’

‘Will…I’m sorry… I swear, I would’ve been gentle with him even though I know I had no right to... Never meant to go so far. Everything went wrong, things just snowballed, piled up and I... I tried to make it right…”

‘By asking him how he liked it? Slow and gentle or rough, weren't it? Tellin' him not to cry! He was fuckin' terrified!' Recalling his son's fear, he aimed another savage fist at his nose and Mike miraculously dodged the blow. Will snarled but continued.  
'I know that ya weren't ever going to take it slow with him, weak fuck. Ya would have been rough with him whatever he said, ya just wouldn't be able to help yourself.'

‘Didn’t mean nothin’ by it. I mean it, Will. I would’ve been careful with him.'

‘No, I don't think so… Besides, ya think that he believed that? Or that I give a shit? Ya scared him half to death!”

‘I know. I’m sorry… I swear I would never have hurt him. Not really. Ya know I adore that kid.”

“Yeah, in more ways than one, ya filthy pervert!

'Please... I'll hand myself in to the cops...I know I'm sick...I got a problem...Jus' stop, please.'

His friend's wheezy breathing was music to Will’s ears. At the same time, he wanted to inflict as much pain as possible before the bastard passed out. He wanted Mike to feel the panic and helplessness Daryl had felt. If only for a few seconds. To completely be at somebody else’s mercy, or lack thereof.

'Don't give a shit.' Will repeated as he got up and eyed him coldly and Mike, even in his agony had time to reflect that this icy-cold rage was somehow worse than the blind fury he's witnessed in the past. It was more calculated and when he saw it, something in his mind snapped.

When Will got hold of the cheap arm chair and easily broke its wooden leg off over his knee and waved it in his face, Mike's eyes grew wide in terror. Especially when he saw the rusty nails sticking out from it.

'Please, don't...I’m sorry. I know there ain't nothin' I can do to make this right but please don't.’

Will smirked when the realization came that he'd finally broken the tough man just like he'd broken his son. Now the bastard was sounding just like Daryl had when his panic was at its peak.

'How dare ya come here, drink my beer, eat my food and then try to fuck my little boy?' He hissed and Mike saw only hate and fury in those merciless Dixon eyes. All old friendship all forgotten.

Will raised the wooden leg, was about to let it come crashing over his head, when he heard the front door crash open and Merle came swanning in. More than a little drunk, probably high as the sky in addition. But he wasn't too out of it for his eyes to grow wide when he saw the scene in front of him. Mike lying there bloody and broken with his father about to hit him over the head with the chair leg. Not thinking, Merle dropped the keys on the floor, face questioning.

‘Bout damn time you showed up, ya missed quite a show!’ His father shot over at him with bitter sarcasm.

'Wha..the fuck? Dad?' Merle’s mouth still gaped in shock and disbelief.

Will dropped the chair leg on top of Mike apparently carelessly, but he aimed it to make sure it would land with the nails facing down and he smiled as Mike screamed in agony. Merle looked on as if frozen before he bent down to remove the piece of wood piercing his back.

‘Better leave it boy, if you know what’s best for ya.’ Will growled dangerously at him. 'Besides, ya really don't want to do that.'

'What the fuck ya doin', Dad? Have ya gone totally crazy?'

'I caught this piece of shit tryin' to fuck Daryl.' Will answered typically with no preamble.  
That made Merle tear his hand away as if Mike was on fire.

Will only needed to look at his eldest son to know that Merle believed him and that Mike was entirely on his own. Merle’s pupils had dilated in his anger and appeared to be almost black as he stared down at the man in rage and disgust enough to mirror his father's.

'Please...' Mike wheezed and reached out a hand while he looked up at the older boy, as if entreating him. 'Don't let him kill me.'  
But Merle snapped his teeth at him with a look of pure revulsion on his face.

‘I invite him over and he thanks me by trying to screw your baby brother! Can you believe it, Merle?’

Will was glad he looked at his son when he did. If he hadn’t, he would have missed the way Merle’s eyes slid away from his as if none of this was as big a surprise as he made it out to be. In fact, he looked completely guilt-ridden. What had the boy been keeping from him, and more importantly, could it have saved Daryl his ordeal? In that case, it would be his fault. Will made a promise to himself then to get the truth out of his eldest after they'd dealt with Mike – now was not the time.

Instead of blowing yet another fuse, Will settled on what was needed doing first. 'Go upstairs and ask ya brother. He'll tell you.'

'Is...Is he OK?' Merle's voice rose in concern. 'He didn't ...didn't...' Uncharacteristically for him, he couldn't say the words when the older Dixon brother didn't usually get tongue-tied when it came to talking about sex. The very opposite, in fact. But this time was different as he just stared down at Mike with an unreadable expression.

'No. Jus' got there in time. But naturally he's in a bit of a state. Ya wanna go and check up on him while I get rid of this bag of shit?'

Mike winced at being called that and tried to get up again in vain, but Will just kicked him back down again. ‘You stay down. Ya should know half of the stuff I heard this piece of crap saying to him, Merle. How he behaved before. I feel so stupid for not seeing what he was planning all fucking night. When he first started on your brother, callin' him a fag, askin' him if he had a boyfriend, I put it all down to the drugs and booze. Even gave him the benefit of the doubt and it just turned out that Mikey here just had a disgusting little thing for him the whole time.’

Merle backed away, only to deliver a forceful kick with his heel downwards to Mike’s unprotected groin. ‘That’s for my brother, ya filthy piece of crap!’  
The air left the man momentarily from the excruciating pain shooting through his entire body.

Will grimaced involuntarily, knowing just how much that must’ve hurt, and smiled at his son. ‘Nicely done, Merle. Surely that ain't all you’ve got?’

Merle replied with a savage little grin. ‘That was only the beginning.’

Mike’s breathing was now ragged as he realised that they were for real. The possibility of them killing him was extremely high judging by the pure hate they were both radiating towards his direction and how quickly they'd slammed him back down when he tried to get up. Never showing an ounce of mercy even though they both knew he wouldn’t be able to get far should he succeed. His broken ribs and leg made it impossible even if he could block out some of the pain.

He was as helpless with them as Daryl was with him and he had to admit wryly to himself that maybe there was some kind of ironic justice in that. They were both watching him like a hawk and when he saw a look of understanding pass between father and son, ending with Merle nodding, he knew he was a dead man and that he wouldn't die pretty.

The older Dixon boy glanced down at the fallen man coldly. 'Don't worry, Dad. I'll make him pay for my brother. Make him suffer long and hard for you. Perve's gonna be wishing for death by the time I'm through.'

Mike closed his eyes and let slip another moan of panic and shuddered in fear. He had always known Merle was a bit of a wildcard and since the boy was born, he'd sensed a darkness in him that was probably inherited from Will. Mike knew that he was probably capable of just about anything, especially when it came to his baby brother. His baby brother who Mike had damaged in even worse ways than Will had done. Mike glanced away. He knew that they'd be no mercy from Merle...with Will he might have been able to play on their history together and maybe even manipulate him but now he had no hope. He sighed in resignation.

His fears were confirmed as Merle shot down a disturbing smile at him. ‘If he’s not sorry now, he sure will be by the end of this…’

'I don’t doubt it.' Actually, Will was relieved. He'd rather take care of Daryl without the responsibility of dealing with Mike.  
He didn't look back behind him once as he slowly started to move towards the stairs.  
It was probably the last time he was to see his best friend from childhood alive.  
‘’’  
Will stood for a moment at the bottom of the stairs where he spotted some blood on the floor. He smiled when he heard the muffled curses and threats Merle was aiming at the other man. Shortly after, the truck roared to life. He was grateful that Merle had taken that little matter off his hands because he had another urgent matter to deal with.  
Daryl.

Will sighed as he made his way heavily upstairs.  
How was he going to handle this? How was he going to give dignity back to his son? His self-respect? Take his fear away? The same dignity and self-respect that he’d seen crumbling at Mike’s behavior earlier was nothing compared to right before Daryl had shut down and hid his face using the meagre comfort of his pillow.

Their eyes had briefly met after Will kicked the door down. The hopelessly lost and miserable look on his son's face combined with shame at being caught in that position by his father had made Will's chest feel so tight that he felt like he couldn't breathe.  
He knew right then that he would never forget that look on Daryl's face for as long as he lived.  
In that moment, Will had vowed to himself to make sure that Daryl would never wear that expression again.

Will swore that he was going to do everything in his power to make him happy. He also knew as he mounted the stairs slowly, that if he instinctively said or did the wrong thing – it could end up scarring the boy for life, even more so than he already was after tonight’s ordeal. There were probably steps to be taken when things like these happened, a cop trained in these kind of cases would know what to say. Will didn't. But hell would have to freeze over before a Dixon ever talked to the cops or asked them for advice, whatever the reason. It just wasn't their way.

He knew one thing for sure, he wasn’t a complete idiot, he would have to tread very carefully with the boy. It scared him when he thought about what state Daryl would be in by now. Treading carefully just wasn’t a thing that came naturally for a guy like Will and he wasn't exactly the world's best father to begin with, he knew that much, but he could at least damn well try.  
….

He made his way slowly into his youngest son's bedroom, part of him dreading what he would find. The light was still on but Daryl was quiet – still had his head under the pillow as if hiding from the world. His father couldn't blame him and noticed with relief his chest was moving up and down slowly. The boy had just fallen asleep in exhaustion after everything that had happened, no doubt.  
'Daryl?' He whispered. 'Ya OK, son?' He whispered and stroked his back. He felt him cringing away even from his gentle touch as he slowly woke up, making his fury at Mike rise up inside him again. But he forced it down, this was not the right time to lose his temper in front of Daryl.

'Look at me, you can come out now. He's gone for good.' He kept his voice soft.

'Da...Dad...' Suddenly Daryl’s big blue eyes looked up at him pleadingly, his hair all adoringly mussed up. 'I didn't...I didn’t do nothin’, ya gotta believe me...'

'I do, son. I know ya didn't. Uncle Mikey was jus' a very, very sick man. Ya didn't do nothin' wrong, Daryl.'

Daryl whimpered when he mentioned Mike's name and instead of scolding him for it, Will ignored it.  
That damn red handprint was standing out on his son’s cheek like a fucking bulls-eye on a dart-board and Will regretted not killing the bastard when he had the chance. But then again, he had left Mikey at the tender mercies of Merle. He smiled to himself, knowing how protective he was over his little brother, Mike definitely wouldn’t be in for a walk in the park. But the smile faded as soon as he saw his other son’s face, which still looked sad and confused.

'It's OK.' He repeated gently as he brushed back the hair from his face. 'Ain't none of it ya fault. Ya still my Daryl, my beautiful, sweet boy.'

Daryl glowed at this rare praise from his father and snuggled up to Will. Miraculously, it seemed like even after all he'd been through, he was still craving physical comfort from his father. But then again, he'd always been an affectionate kid.

Relief flooded him right then, that Daryl didn’t blame him for his choice of friends. But then he hadn't known – not for sure. Mike had never let slip so much as a hint that he liked little boys. He'd been married, for fuck's sake and had women since. Had it all be camouflage? Pretty good if it was – none of them had suspected what he was. There had simply been no hint of any of that. Besides, Will had known him practically his whole life. Which led him to come to the conclusion that the bastard must have got the taste recently, but when? Was it about the same time he'd put the distance between them?

But he also hated himself at the same time because he could see what had made Daryl so irresistible to Mike – the boy grew even more tempting as he grew older and he could feel the attraction to him himself and he was his own father! The boy was beautiful. That Dixon toughness and defiance combined with that vulnerability and sweetness...that purity, made him simply irresistible. Will had witnessed it himself many times. And he was no faggot – he hated those pillow-biters – to him, they were some sort of half men who weren't real men but pretended to be. Then how could he justify the way he was feeling towards his own son?

It must be the boy himself – something about him attracted everybody, even his own father which was sick. Will was certain that the scumbag had told him the truth when he said Daryl had been the only one. Hopefully it was the first time he'd touched him, hence all the weird behaviour and sleazy questions before.

He pushed the thoughts and the pictures kaleidoscoping in his head down – he'd never hurt Daryl – not like that and made an oath then to cut his own dick off if he ever allowed these feelings to take him over. If he didn't act on them, he could pretend they didn't exist.  
So he dealt with it the only way he knew how, hiding it – fuck knows what would happen if either of his sons were to found out.

Seeing Daryl scared out of his wits and crying helplessly wasn't something Will wanted to witness again, not on his account. The father was terrified for him because if he ever lost control like Mike...

'Come here, baby.' Will whispered softly before he drew him closer. He could still feel him trembling violently in his arms. He'd never called him that before this day, but this was a very special – or more accurately, terrible occasion. After all, getting nearly violently raped when you're 13 by your father's best friend didn't happen every day after all.

Will wanted to make sure that Daryl knew that he didn't blame him for any of it. He wanted to make things very clear that he wasn't going to get punished for what Mike had done.

Being called ‘baby’ again didn't bother Daryl though, he didn't even seem to notice. Will sighed as he cradled him on his lap, careful to turn his head so that his hurt cheek wasn't resting against his chest.  
'He hit you?' Will asked in outrage, just as if he hadn't heard it happen. And done nothing. Daryl nodded.  
'Bastard.' He hissed.  
There was a pause while Will thought how he was going to frame his next question.  
'Now, Daddy's gotta ask ya somethin' and ya got to tell the truth. Don't be scared – whatever ya tell me, I won't get angry. Promise.'

He felt his son slump against him and give a long, shuddering sigh. Will tightened his arms around him because he knew what he had to ask the boy could be very painful for him.

'OK, Dad.' He nodded bravely, his hair tickling Will's chin, making him feel those unnatural feelings again but he pushed them down, down, deep inside him.

'Now, did Uncle Mikey do anythin' like that to ya before? Did he ever touch ya funny? Say somethin' weird to ya like he did tonight? Ya can tell me if he did. I won’t be mad that ya didn't tell me.'

'No, Dad.' Daryl answered and looked up at him, all wide-eyed innocence and the father's heart lurched in his chest.  
His son started to tremble in his arms then, making Will renew his focus. He stroked his hair reassuringly.  
'It was the first time? ...Promise?'

'He…once...I…I forgot about it.’

‘What? Ya gotta tell me, son. I won’t hold it against you or none.’

‘I don’t… I’m…’

‘It’s OK. Everything’s gonna be OK. Come on, jus' tell me.'

‘I was sitting in his lap and he…he got… hard.' Daryl faltered, the rest of his face going the shame shade as Mike's mark.

Will felt the blood and all the color leave his face. Fuck. The very same thing that had happened to himself. How was he going to explain this? Now Daryl had first-hand experience of what made that particular body part react that way.  
He found his voice despite the dread scratching and clawing at his stomach: ‘And you didn’t want to tell me because it happened when you sat in my lap too, that it?’

Daryl chewed on his lower lip and finally nodded. ‘Oh son. It happened for two very different reasons, you have to know that. Mike was sick, sick and weak. I’m your father, I don’t feel that way about you. That would make me worse than him.’

Daryl nodded again, but a small frown had appeared between his eyebrows.

‘Hey, are you listening to me? It didn’t mean anything when it happened with me, it had absolutely nothing to do with you.’

‘Then why?’

Will guided his son back so that he could see his face clearly before he answered. ‘You brushed up against me wrong, that’s all and it took a while for things to settle down. I’m not a sick pervert, son.'  
Daryl now looked guilty and Will couldn’t have that. ‘What is it?’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…’

‘No. Don’t say sorry. I told you, anything you have to say, I wouldn't get mad at you. It’s all right. Did you understand what I told ya about it not meanin' anything?’

Daryl nodded, Will hugged him to him again and continued: ‘Did he do or say anything else weird?’

‘No, Dad.’

'Good. You'll never have to see Mike again. He's gone for good, don't ya worry 'bout that. Ya can forget all about that piece of shit.'

Will began to rock them both comfortingly back and forth.  
'Still my beautiful, brave, strong boy. Ya always gonna be Daryl. Ain't no one can ever take that away from you, no matter what they do or say. Ya jus' remember who ya are, son.'

'Yes, Dad.' The boy answered obediently and ducked his head to lay it down back onto Will's chest. Next to his heart. Will beamed and kissed the top of his hair.

….

They stayed there like that – father and son, Will didn't know for how long. He was still rocking him even after he fell asleep. His left leg had gone numb from the uncomfortable position but he'd be damned if he was going to let go of his son now, he couldn't bear to. He told himself that it was because he might wake him if he put him back to bed. The truth was, he didn't trust himself to let Daryl go until Merle came back to tell him that the job was done. As if Mike was going to come back and finish what he’d started…Or take revenge on them all...  
He shook his head for being so stupid. If anyone could make the pervert really pay, it would be Merle.  
Will doubted that Mike would be thinking about anything other than surviving the torture Merle would no doubt be inflicting on him. Or more likely, hoping that he wouldn't survive. That made Will smile. It was strange because he'd loved the man like a brother once but the moment he touched his son, all bets were off.  
From then on, Mike didn’t exist for him anymore.

Another motivation for Will to stay where he was, was that he enjoyed being this close to Daryl. Enjoying the feel of his skin next to his and being able to touch him, have him in his arms without him flinching away for once. It all felt so damn good, but the price they'd paid to get to this had been too high. Far too high and Will would never have asked Daryl to pay it.

The minutes kept flying by, and Will wasn’t sure how much time had passed while he was running his fingers through his son's hair. Stroking his nape up and down - he knew the boy was crazy about that. Even though he was sound asleep, he told himself he could still feel it. He was half-asleep himself when he heard the door crash open suddenly. Daryl's eyelids immediately fluttered, causing Will to curse inwardly at his other son. He tightened his hold about him protectively but he needn't have worried, Daryl didn't wake up and Will knew that the boy could sleep like the dead like he did so often these days. Nothing short of an earthquake and the house crashing down around him could ever wake that boy up.

Merle thumped up the stairs and peeked round Daryl's door.  
'Daryl?' He breathed. Of course, his first thought was for his baby brother.

'Sh...Fuckin' whisper, will ya? Do ya want to wake him up? Ya nearly did when ya came crashing through the door like a charging bull.'

'Yeah, sorry.' Merle replied flippantly when he obviously wasn't sorry at all. But he did speak more quietly when he asked more seriously, 'How is he?'

'He's sleeping now, but he'll be OK. I don't think the bastard got to do much 'cept scare the holy bejesus out of him.'

Merle thankfully missed Will's voice hitch halfway through his last sentence and he sighed with an audible sense of relief.

'Don't know if he'll ever get over it though.' His father sorrowfully added and shook his head.

'He will. He's gotta, Dad. Or if he don't...we'll make him. From now I'm gonna take him out and spoil him rotten. Buy him whatever stuff he wants.'

'You do that.' His father agreed before his face turned hard again. Of course he hadn't missed the blood stains all over his older son's shirt and jacket when he came in. 'Better stick those in the washer.' He told him, jerking his head meaningfully at his filthy clothes. 'Or better – throw them away or burn 'em... Is it done?'

Merle nodded and bowed his head without meeting his father's eyes. 'He won't be messin' with any more little boys in the future, I can promise you that, Dad.' He replied but his eyes darted away nervously.

'Anyone see you?'

'I don't think so.'

'Good.' Will expressed his approval and the tension seemed to drain out of the room and Daryl stirred uneasily in his arms.

'Better get this one to bed after the shit he's been through.' He got his son off him and laid him down gently in the bed where he pulled up the covers.

Before he did anything else he bent down to kiss his son’s forehead.  
'Let's go downstairs. I think we both need a drink after that, don't we, son?'  
We also need to have a serious talk. He added silently.

Merle grinned ruefully as he followed his father to the living room.


	18. Guilt Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, what's Merle done to Mike? What's Dad going to say about it all? 
> 
> Thanks to all our readers waiting patiently for the next instalment, we hope you enjoy this chapter! x 
> 
> Remember: reviews are love, give it to us!

***

'You go on in there.' His father gestured towards the living room with his hand as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs. 'I'll go and get the beer – think ya earnt it tonight, don't ya, Merle?' 

Instead of beaming at the rare bit of praise he'd got from his Dad, Merle went deathly pale with guilt as he sat on his usual spot on the sofa. Trying to steel himself for the confession, not only about exactly how he'd made the man scream before he'd finished with him. 

When Will came back it was with the best glasses from the cabinet, not the cheap ones he expected to see, and the beer was so cold the cans were practically giving off steam. Merle raised his eyebrows in surprise.  
'Dad...' he started, sounding younger and more vulnerable than he had done in years, 'I hurt him bad...then I...he...'. His voice hitched when he tried to find the right words for how he'd tortured the man.

His father turned back to face him and put his hand up to stop him. 'Don't, son. Jus' don't.'

'But I...'

'Whatever ya did, ya did with my blessing. I know you weren't here to see it or hear the things he did to your little brother... Believe me, we did the world a favor by gettin' rid of that piece of shit....Not to mention to any other kids the sick bastard might hurt like that in future.'

'I know... But...' Before he lost courage, Merle was just about to open his mouth but his dad shook his head as he got up from his chair, interrupting him. 

'Hold that thought, son.' He said. 'Let me pour us some drinks and you'll feel better after them, OK?' 

Merle nodded hastily, Will was starting to sound dangerously pissed off at being kept away from his booze too long. 'Yes, Dad.' Merle replied with untypical meekness, not sounding unlike his brother as he slumped his shoulders and sank back further into the cushions. He blamed himself for all of it- he was afraid that it was all his fault for being so blind two years ago and not listening to his instincts then.  
He had known what Mike was and done nothing about it. He should have told their father - recalling all the times he'd seen Mike and Daryl together then and how it had given him the chills. Especially, the way Mike had touched his little brother the last time they'd stayed over... He hadn't told his father about it, hadn't told anyone. In fact his sieve for a brain had forgotten all about it as soon as Mike stopped coming round. How his Dad would react to this revelation, he wasn't sure but he had a pretty good idea.

'Good boy.' Will said, mercifully interrupting his dark thoughts before he turned and went back in the kitchen again, probably to fetch them some chips.

Merle raised an eyebrow at that but did as he was told, thinking how ironic it was that he'd finally done something to win his father's approval. Something that made him sick to his stomach to remember now that the adrenalin and the rage with it, had passed.

He badly wanted to confess to his father what exactly he'd done to Mike for hurting Daryl, not only to get it off his chest, but because in some way he was proud that he was the one to get his brother justice. In some way Merle hoped that what he had to tell him would bring peace to Will.  
But apparently what he needed most of all was his father's approval – most importantly, he needed him to say that he hadn't gone too far.  
Yet Merle wondered if he would really have the guts to tell his father all the gory details. 

A few minutes later Will came back in but not with snacks like Merle had expected but with a bottle of his best whisky saved for special occasions and he suddenly realised that was what those fancy glasses were for. Yet something about the way his Dad wanting them to celebrate made Merle break out in an icy sweat. Of course, by this time, the teenager had guzzled all his beer, he was so nervous. Yet his eyes didn't light up with excitement at the sight of the expensive drink, he only felt more guilty and uncomfortable as if he deserved punishment instead of a reward.

'What you lookin' like that for? You did something good tonight.' His father's eyes glittered curiously at him.

'But....but he was your best friend. Don't you care?'

'Can't say I do.' Will replied callously and grunted dismissively as he sank into his armchair before he poured out the amber liquid in two equally generous measures.  
Merle could only gape at him in shock at his cold reply – he knew how close they'd been at one time when Mike had been practically family. How could he be so unfeeling about him even after the shit he'd pulled?To add to Merle's unease, his father started to add the ice he'd brought with him from the kitchen to the glasses to make it on the rocks. 

Pretty classy for the Dixons. 

'Listen to me, son. I don't know why the hell you feel so guilty about making that evil motherfucker pay. Like I already said, if you'd been here, you'd feel differently about the whole damn thing...'

'That's just it though, ain't it, Dad? I wasn't here, just off getting laid with two worthless whores who I'd never touch with a barge-pole if I was sober and thinking straight.' Merle took a big ungraceful swig of his drink grimacing at himself as he recalled the high pitched laugh one of the girls had, thinking that none of it had been worth it. 

Especially not now. 

Dad sighed. 'Don't blame yourself for bein' young, Merle. What I wouldn't give to be your age again. Of course, I wasn't much older than you when I got married to your mother. Then you came along and we had to work to pay for the house....then Daryl...Kids these days don't have any responsibilities - so don't feel bad about enjoying your freedom.'

Merle shrugged non-committedly. 

'What's really eating at ya? That Daryl was all alone with that monster before I got to him? Ya think that if you had been here along with me, it would never have happened?'

'That sums it up, yeah.'

'Well, then let me tell ya something...Dear ole' Mikey would've found himself another way to get to ya brother even if you had. Anyway, Daryl knows you care. He'll know too what you did for him tonight even if you don't spell out the details.'

'I hope so.' For a second or two he stared at his own knuckles, bruised and sore before the burning question emerged from him without him even lifting his eyes. 'Dad...Don't you want to know what I did to him?'.  
It came out as a half-hushed whisper.

Will took his third huge swig of the liquor then closed his eyes and held up the palm of his hand in front of him. He shook his head as he swivelled the mouthful of whisky around his mouth, delicately savouring the flavour. 'No. I thought I made myself clear before. I don't want to know what you did to him. So, don't tell me.'

'But....'

'As long as he's gone and there's no chance of Daryl seeing him again, I don't give a shit what you had to do. Just don't tell anyone – I'm sure folks around here wouldn't blame you... But word could get around, then before you know it, we got the whole fuckin' cop-shop bangin' at our door. Asking questions, wavin' search warrants to come in here... You covered your tracks, I presume? Got rid of those dirty clothes?'

'Yes, Dad.' 

'I mean it, Merle. Don't tell a fuckin' soul even if you're dyin' to get it off your chest and you want to tell someone. Not even Daryl, if he asks, ya hear? 'Sides, the cops won't believe us, I'm warnin' you!'

'You don't know that, maybe we should have gone to them in the first place!'

'And have everyone around here know what happened to your brother?'

'I'm sure they all do by now. Your other buddies were here, remember?'

'Oh, them. But if it comes to that, nobody around here will tell the police anythin'. They trust them about half as much as I do.'

'Dad...I feel so...'

'Don't. I keep tellin' you that nobody could blame you! I thought you were tougher than this.' He paused as if pondering something before he swung his heavy gaze back at his anxious son. ' Judging by the way you're acting I'm guessing he's dead?' More of a demand for confirmation than a genuine question.  
Merle gulped nervously and looked away before he took another swig of the comforting drink.

'Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know... So, I'll just go right on ahead and assume he is.' His voice was suddenly hard as he eyeballed his eldest son in a silent challenge. 'He better be.'  
Merle couldn't meet his eyes. 

After a long pause, Will looked away too. Merle knew that his response or more precisely, lack of it, confused his father. Whatever the questioning look on his face meant though, Merle knew that his father didn't doubt the fact that he'd dealt with that sack of shit properly for Daryl's sake. Most importantly, he had done it without leaving any nasty consequences threatening to rain down on them later.

'Now, the next thing we do is make sure Daryl forgets this ever happened.'

'Yeah? And how the fuck do we do that?' Merle was sceptical of course.

Will put his nearly empty glass on the table as he pondered that difficult question. 'We make him happy, that's what we do. And we don't talk about it. Ever.'

Merle had to agree although it sounded far-fetched and near impossible. Although the image of Dad sitting holding his little brother like that in his bedroom hadn’t made him the slightest bit jealous like it would’ve in the past. Merle would have given anything not to have Daryl go through that at such a young age but at least something good was coming out of it because Dad was acting like a real Dad now.

Speaking of the devil, Merle watched him down the last of his glass with a tired sigh and they only needed to lock eyes without speaking to communicate the despair they both felt over what seemed an impossible task. Make him forget? They both knew Daryl had been through something real bad – that things were going to be very different from then on. Merle knew without asking that they'd be no more hitting coming from their dad for a long while; maybe an occasional lashing but only from Dad's tongue in that house from now on. They both knew that Mike had punished Daryl enough for a lifetime and that was without even getting to do everything he wanted to him.

The older brother took a deep breath when his mind insisted on peppering him with images of Daryl in their father's arms mere hours ago, how vulnerable and small he had looked then. It would no doubt be a long way to full recovery if ever, but Merle vowed silently to do his very best to help his brother through it. He was almost 18 now, no naïve kid and he would do his best to make everything up to him, starting with all the times he'd never been around. But his silent promises paled into nothing as soon as his father’s piercing eyes suddenly found his again.

‘I saw the look on your face before. When I asked if ya could believe he could do something like that to him and ya hesitated and looked away. Now would be a good time for you to spill.’ His father's glare was merciless and his eyes as cold as ice and Merle knew he had nowhere to run.  
He was his flesh and blood and he knew him through and through.

‘I wasn’t sure, that’s why I never did nothin' about it. Thought I was imagining things after I got him away from him and besides, he backed off after that. So I let it go. And the reason we left him had less to do with you than that fucker actin' more creepy by the day. Touchin' him all the time and shit, ya know? I thought they were getting' too close in a weird way, ya know?’

‘And you did nothin'? Why the hell didn’t you tell me about it?’ Will's voice rose in the anger he couldn't contain as he suddenly reached for his hunting-knife that was lying conveniently close-by and Merle would be lying if he said he didn't flinch a little at that. He recalled fun times with it and his Dad when he was younger and the older Dixon boy even half-expected him to use it on him again now. More than that, Merle even had half a mind to let him too, feeling that he deserved some kind of punishment for failing in his duty to Daryl. 

But instead of taking out his frustration onto him, Will stabbed the sharp point of his hunting knife right into the grain of that ancient wooden table so hard that it shuddered as his voice grew even louder in his rage.  
'Do you know what he nearly did to him and you never even warned me!' He roared at him. 'The disgusting names that bastard called ya baby brother...?'

'I know I should've said somethin' at the time!' Merle yelled back but shrank back even further. 'I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry, alright!'

Will kept on twisting the knife in literally as well as metaphorically, creating a large ragged hole in the good quality timber while Merle just stared in dismay. Will continued to rant, 'I heard him call him a tease! My boy a fuckin tease? He hit him too when he fought back...I heard him! That fuckin'....' He yanked the dagger out and stabbed that table again and again with so much force that Merle just knew that his father was imagining that it was Mike he was stabbing.

Merle couldn't blame him but that piece of furniture had been faithfully passed down from Will's mother's grandmother's mother and it was a crying shame to ruin one of the few things that was still nice in their house. His actions told him that his Dad was the angriest he'd ever been in his entire life and that Merle could understand. He'd do the same if he could even though he'd let Mike already have it and then some. Merle had no problem imagining he was stabbing him in his face, his eye-balls, hands, then his other balls ….even his cock ...especially all those body parts that he'd tried to hurt his little brother with...all over, that was if the bastard was still conscious. 

However, Merle's vengeful and vicious train of thought came to an abrupt end when he glanced up at his father's face. To see something that he'd never witnessed before - not even when his mother died. 

His father was close to tears. 'Stupid asshole...Why did he have to do it, huh? Right in front of me, in my own house, with my own son? Make me...'

‘Easy, Dad.' He reached over to stop him. Will let him take the knife out of the old oak table with a remorseful sigh, finally realizing what he'd done to the precious family heirloom.  
'Here, have another drink.' Merle turned soliticious and got it for him. While he was there, he also got himself another glass even though he wasn't sure if he had permission.

It didn't matter, Will looked like he couldn't care less if Merle drank the rest of the bottle as he barely glanced at the good measure his son plonked down before him. 'Neither of us could have believed it...he used to be good to us! The fucker could have won an Oscar! ' His son did his best to console him.

'Yeah. Now I know why. Fuck knows how long he's been after your little brother.' A silent reproach, but he might as well have planted the knife in Merle's heart and twisted it, his harsh words stung him so.

Merle's face flooded with red. 'What could I have said? You would probably just have been pissed at me for letting my imagination run wild, thinkin' up sick shit like that about your best buddy.'  
Will grunted in agreement, giving him an inch at last. After all, he'd struggled with the truth and he'd heard it for himself.  
'I...I thought... I could protect him.' Merle actually stammered.

'I know ya did, it's OK. I just hope you made him suffer.' Will replied when things clearly weren't anywhere near OK and likely never would be again.  
'Aw...don't look like that, Merle.' He patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. 'I forgive you for lettin' Mike get to him, son. For not warning me about him, I guess ya just wasn't sure. Hell, he even fooled me.'' 

As his father spoke, it reminded Merle of the solemn way a Catholic priest might sound at confessional although the only times the Dixons had seen inside the walls of a church was for the rites of life's passage. Not birth (obviously) but marriage and death.

There was a tense silence while Merle stopped focusing on how strange and not himself his father sounded, but on his words instead. He was forgiven, well, close enough anyway. Yet he bowed his head as he tried to figure out exactly how much he was actually to blame for what had befallen Daryl but his mind refused to work and he couldn't put it all down to the whisky.  
'What the fuck do I tell him, dad?' He blurted out. 'He's gonna ask about him, ain't he?'

'Jus' tell him you made him scream.'

'I did, Dad.' Merle's feelings of guilt suddenly disappeared and his eyes got a cruel, sadistic gleam in them as he recalled how in the end, Mike writhed in agony, clutching himself trying to stop the flow from the places on his battered body where he was bleeding from the most. His pathetic pleas to Merle for mercy that was not with-coming, his cries seemingly endless because in the end, Mike got about as much mercy and compassion as he'd shown Daryl. Besides, what his father had told him about what had gone on only helped to lessen his self-doubt and remorse and suddenly he felt a whole lot better.  
No, he realised with a sense of great relief, he hadn't taken it too far, far from it, in fact.  
More than that, all he had to do for his stomach to turn was think about how close Mike had been to reaching his goal – that his Dad only got there just in the nick of time to save Daryl his innocence.

Well, most of it anyway. That thought made him feel sad. Would his little brother be irrevocably changed by his bad experience? Would he stay like that forever?

'Things'll get better over time, son. A few weeks from now you'll feel nothing but pride over making him pay for your brother. You'll feel just as proud of yourself as I am of you now.' Dad read his mind.

Merle gave him a small, hopeful smile as he drained the rest of his whisky and got up. 'I'm tired, going to bed.' Truth be told, he wasn't tired, he just wanted to check on his brother, see the extent of the damage if he could.  


'Sure thing, that's no surprise, is it? Good night, Merle.'  


Night, Dad.'  


Despite all that had happened, a childish part of him couldn't keep the smile off his face as he climbed the stairs when he thought about his Dad calling him 'son' for the first time in many years. Multiple times. In fact, he was like he used to be before their mother died and his heart right along with her. Merle even dared to hope that maybe something good was going to come out of what Mike did if it meant that Dad didn't hurt Daryl anymore.  
Tonight, his father had praised him, approved of his way of dishing out justice to Mike and getting rid of him, even though he didn't want to know the details. He'd also given him some of his most prized best whisky. Merle's heart was almost bursting with happiness, only the thought of Daryl could dampen his bliss.  
Tonight, his dad had acted like he loved him almost as much as he loved his little brother.


	19. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long to update, we've been busy. Thanks for reading and here's another big chapter for you to enjoy!  
> Daryl's hurting and naturally Merle wants to make him feel better. He also feels guilty as hell for what happened to him.  
> Will his Dad's and his big brother's comfort be enough? Daryl's tough but not even he can shrug this one off like it didn't happen.
> 
> Remember: kudos and comments are love, give it to us!

Part 19: Comfort

After their little chat, and shortly after his older boy had left to go upstairs and check on his other, Dad fell asleep in his armchair. The shock of finding Mike and his son together like that, and the exhaustion of keeping check of what details he was telling Merle had all been too much for him.

Merle sighed as he went, unable to stop himself from dwelling on what he'd done as his fleeting happiness faded to concern for his brother as he drew closer to him. He'd never hurt anyone before like he'd hurt Mike, then again he'd never had any reason, let alone wanted to. He'd crossed a line that night, even for him, but it had to be done for Daryl.

Maybe his brother wasn't the only one who had lost his innocence that night, he pondered bitterly.

Still, he told himself, it was Daryl after all, who was the important one in all of this, so he put his own selfish thoughts dwelling on himself aside.

...

Merle quickly found himself racing up the stairs, despite his drunkenness. He had such a high tolerance that even now he could pass for sober. Besides, his adrenaline was still pumping and going strong from everything that had happened despite how much he'd drank. The only hint of his inebriation was lack of co-ordination as he started to take two steps at a time with difficulty to get to his brother faster. He had the sudden terrible feeling that Daryl was crying out to him and all he wanted was to be with him.

Check on him.

Their Dad had said that he had already talked to him about what had happened and had calmed him down. Merle believed him - their father was good at that. Even though he had seen with his own eyes that he was sleeping peacefully when they'd left him in his bed, the guilt was too much because it was all his fault, Dad was right about that.

So, he had to make sure that Daryl was really coping.

As selfish as it was, Merle wasn't even sure if he could resist not waking Daryl up. He needed to know he was all right, he needed to see it to make himself feel better.

He had made Mike pay, then made it through that awkward conversation with his father afterwards who thought that he was to blame, but still been prepared to forgive him. Yet, when he thought back on it, his father had been acting pretty shifty too and now it was pretty obvious to Merle that he was hiding something. For him, not knowing what it was and if it meant Daryl was in more danger was the worst thing.

But he was destined to find out Dad's secret and it would probably make him livid when he did. For the moment he shook his suspicion off, emptied his mind so that he could focus on the one person that needed his full concentration, hell, deserved it, even.

It was the least he could do.

When he got to Daryl's room he was careful not to open the door too quickly, it would probably scare him if he did. Especially if he was asleep. When he peeked his head in, however, he found his brother sitting on his bed wide-awake. Looking like nodding off was the very last thing on his mind.

'Hey, baby bro, why ain't ya sleepin'?' Merle drawled but didn't give him a chance to answer before he closed the door behind him and walked into the bedroom. The small form on the bed made him hang back before he got to the bed though. 'You all right?' He asked.

Of course, all Daryl gave him in reply was a bewildered look before he rolled his eyes and snorted. Then he looked away.

'Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Stupid question, huh? All right if I sit next to ya?'

His younger sibling barely moved except to nod, a barely perceptible movement but he noticed. Knowing what his brother was really saying without opening his mouth, Merle nudged him with his elbow.

'Scoot.' Instead of moving, however, Daryl merely curled up away from him against the wall, trying to make himself look even smaller. Merle didn't take any notice of that though because he knew what his brother needed, what he was afraid of and automatically slung an arm around him. 'C'mere… He ain't going to get another chance at ya. Promise.'

No reply, but at least he could feel him relax a little under his arm.

'Daryl, what did Dad do when he...he found you and ...him?'

He shrugged. 'He was real nice about it... Didn't matter none though, I still felt like throwing up when he found us together like that. But he didn't even think it was my fault.'

Didn't even think it was my fault? Merle's heart skipped a beat at that. He was the one who got attacked but he was the one who felt guilty and ashamed? He realised that Daryl was more screwed up by what had happened than Dad realised but he decided not to make a point of it.

'Why the hell would he? It weren't your fault! None of it!' He squeezed his shoulders.

Daryl shrugged mutely. Merle wasn't fully convinced he really believed him. 'It wasn't! Ya believe him, don't you?' Merle repeated and suddenly grabbed him without warning so that they were face to face, he knew that it would be easier to convince his brother that way.

Bad move.

Daryl immediately winced and drew back. 'No! Let go of me!' He cried and immediately started to struggle to get free.

'Alright, calm down! I'm sorry!' Merle realised what he'd just done and what it must have reminded him of so he instantly let go.

But his brother was shaking violently now and Merle cursed himself. 'Sh...sorry. I just wanted to make you see... Ya know it wasn't your fault, don't you?' He took him by the chin more gently this time and forced him to look up at him. Daryl tried to avert his eyes, but that only made Merle shake him once more to get his point across.

'Now listen here, little brother. Whatever that bastard said to ya was only to screw with ya head, make ya think it was. Don't even for a second believe any of the words that came out of his mouth. You didn't do anythin' to make him think ya wanted it! Any of it! '

'Yeah, yeah.' He jerked his head away. 'It weren't me, it was all him, I fuckin' GET IT! Dad said the same. But I wasn't sure what with the shit he was whispering in my ear and him forcing his dick into my mouth!' There was rage in his voice and his fists were clenched at his sides but it was clear to anybody watching that he was also on the verge of tears too.

'That fucking bastard!' Merle gasped in shock and held him tighter even though his Dad had told him most of the details he'd overheard, that was exactly what Mike had done to his brother. It didn't matter since it all hit him full force at Daryl's words and it was made all the more disturbing when the words were coming from the person it had happened to. Suddenly it was like he was hearing it for the very first time all over again.

Once he'd calmed down a little, Daryl rested his head against his forearm, and without looking up he exhaled and quietly uttered, 'Merle…I don't feel so good.'

'I ain't surprised.'

'I think I'm gonna be sick...' Merle could see his brother fighting the nausea that had overcame him again when he told him what Mike had made him do. Daryl shrugged his arm off to rush into the bathroom, covering his mouth with his hand. But apart from his urgency, he moved as if he was scared of his own shadow. Worried, Merle followed him and soon enough he was retching again and again into the toilet.

As the hotdog and fries came back up, Merle rubbed his back in circles and whispered soothing words to him. But long after his stomach was empty, Daryl kept on heaving, stubbornly choking on his fingers until Merle pulled him away. 'Stop it!' He told him.

'I can't...Can't...get...the...taste...of him outta me!' Daryl complained as his body still insisted on ridding itself of its invader long after he was gone. 'It's like he's still fuckin' touchin' me!'

'Sh...I know.' Merle replied even though he didn't, couldn't, possibly know. Instead of babbling meaningless platitudes, he settled on pulling his brother down with him to the tiled floor and leaned them against the wall. 'But it'll get better, I promise, baby brother.' He cradled him there for a while against him and Daryl let him until his shuddering heaving fits passed. Almost as soon as they did, he was up again. Merle noticed with alarm the frantic energy in his movements as if he was afraid to sit still.

'I gotta wash out my mouth, Merle.'

'Fine. But I ain't leavin' ya.'

'I think I can brush my own teeth all by myself! Ain't a complete moron, ya know!' He snapped viciously yet his lower lip was trembling, betraying his true emotions.

Merle took in his trembling form, despite his fierceness, Daryl's eyes were red from all the vomiting. But it also was a telltale sign that he'd been weeping long and hard when he thought nobody was looking.

Merle shook his head. 'Ain't gonna happen. Think I'm leavin' ya alone like this?'

Daryl smiled for the first time and nodded as he let out a little shaky sigh of relief. In reality, Merle knew he'd been acting tougher than he felt in front of him and he knew the fact that he simply was there made him feel better. He just didn't want to look weak by asking him to stay.

Merle squeezed his shoulder, noting how tense it was. 'Come on.' He got him his toothbrush and even squeezed out the toothpaste on it before he handed it to him. Daryl nodded gratefully and shakily began brushing.

He watched him like a hawk from where he was leaning against the wall behind him and began counting in his head. After the fourth time Daryl put more toothpaste on his toothbrush to start all over again, Merle had enough and got up onto his feet and was soon by his brother's side. Sure enough, when Daryl spat again in the sink, there was red mixed with the white.

Merle didn't think twice before he took the toothbrush away from that death-grip.

'Stop it.' He told him. 'Keep on like that and you won't have any gums left, let alone teeth!'

'Give it back 'ere!' Daryl snarled and made to snatch the brush again but Merle put it high out of his reach. It was almost like they were playing like they used to – probably would have even been funny if not for the circumstances.

'Come on, four times is a bit much and you must have swigged half a bottle of mouthwash too.' Merle was exaggerating to make a joke but Daryl didn't take it that way.

But it did put a stop to his brother when he was expecting more hell from him. He was quite stubborn when he wanted to be. Still, Merle guessed he had used up most of the fight in him against that huge giant.

Daryl turned to frown at the bottle of mouthwash worriedly, 'Will he...?' He started timidly and stopped, looking up at him with wide eyes full of fear.

But he didn't have to say more, Merle knew what he was thinking as he firmly replaced the toothbrush in the glass and the toothpaste back on the shelf.

'I think how much toothpaste and mouthwash you just used will be the very last thing on his mind tomorrow, don't you? I doubt he'll even notice and if he does, he'll understand. Come on, now ya all cleaned up, let's get ya back into bed.' He lent down to grab his arm but Daryl stopped him.

'No, Merle. I feel ...I feel so...' He struggled for the right words before he let his hands fall to his sides in a pitiful gesture of helplessness.

'Dirty.' Merle sighed as he helped him finish, his heart lurching painfully in his chest. He'd been afraid of just this and it was obvious in how he'd nearly scrubbed his gums away from his teeth.

Daryl's lower lip trembled and he looked away without answering.

Merle fought the sudden urge to slap himself silly, how could he be so stupid. 'Of course ya feel dirty, ya haven't had a shower yet.' He said matter-of-factly. 'Come on, out of those pyjamas. I can get you fresh ones if you like.'

Daryl hesitated but started stripping out of habit but halfway through he suddenly froze to look at Merle in a way that the other didn't like at all.

'What is it?' Merle frowned. 'What's wrong?'

'Merle...' Daryl flushed and looked down at the bathroom floor.

He didn't seem to be able to finish his sentences lately, Merle thought sourly as he looked at his little brother, waiting patiently for him to finish. But he never did and Merle couldn't blame him.

'Oh, come on. I ain't gonna look.' Merle rolled his eyes, giving up and guessing what his brother was worried about. 'Stop bein' such a little pansy.' He teased him thoughtlessly without thinking about his words.

When the penny dropped, he blanched when he realised what he'd just said, probably Mike had called Daryl something along the same lines right before he yanked down his pyjama bottoms and here he was, being an insensitive ass as usual. Luckily, however, his brother didn't react.

'But still, can ya turn around?' If Merle hadn't been so alert to everything going on with his brother at that moment, he wouldn't have heard it since the question was barely above a whisper. Then everything became clear– Daryl was embarrassed.

'Uh, yeah, sure.'

Merle kept his promise and didn't look back at him until he heard the spray of water as the shower started. Only seconds in and he knew what Daryl was doing, he didn't even need to look at him to know that he was scrubbing himself raw, his frenziedmovements getting faster and more desperate by the second. He also didn't need to see him to know that his tears were mixed with the hot water and when he heard him let slip a muted sob or two, his suspicions were confirmed.

'Daryl… Ya want me there?'

'No!' He choked out furiously, and Merle had to keep telling himself to do what he was told, not go against his wishes because he'd had enough of that lately.

Even if it went against all his big brotherly instincts, Merle forced himself to stay right where he was in order to give his brother space. But when the sound of his weeping grew more ragged and broken-sounding, he couldn't hold back this time and was by his side in an instant. He grabbed his hands to stop him and turned off the showerhead to alternatively hug his shoulders and stroking his hair, murmuring reassurances as he did.

Daryl didn't fight back, but Merle could tell that he wasn't exactly thrilled about being coddled while buck naked either. Not that that would have been such a big deal before.

'Shh, it's only me. It's over now. And Dad and me, we've both got you. Ain't gonna let anythin' bad happen to you.'

Eventually he calmed down enough .

'Merle...'

'Yeah, little brother, what is it?'

'Still feel dirty.'

'Then I know just what you need.' He turned his back on him and started running the bath with both taps, carefully checking the temperature of the water.

Merle suddenly thought of something to cheer him up. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

'What bubble bath ya want?'

'Can I have a bit of all of them?' Daryl asked hopefully. He'd slung a towel around his hips as soon as the water was shut off.

'Course ya can.' Merle thought it pitiful and not a little pathetic that all his brother wanted after being attacked like that was some nice bubble bath to help make himself feel clean. To rid himself of the man's stink and the feel of his rough hands on his bare skin, no doubt.

'Ya can have anythin' ya want. And I don't think even the old man would mind, either. Whatever makes ya feel better.'

'Thanks, Merle.'

'Don't mention it. Anything for my sweet baby brother.' He'd said without thinking, sounding a little uncharacteristic coming from him. Daryl didn't seem to mind though as he turned his face up to him then and gave him a shy, grateful little smile that brightened up the whole of his wan, drawn face. Had Daryl been himself he would have scowled at being called something as sissy as that. It wasn't much but it was enough to give Merle a ray of hope that his little brother would be whole again one day.

And that's what they did, a little of each fruit flavored liquids – orange, peppermint, blueberry and lemon with hot water added to the brim.

Daryl picked up the shampoo – this had a more masculine fragrance of pine to it but he soon gave up when his arms felt too heavy to lift, leaving him sporting a questioning and sad expression on his face that had Merle fighting back the impulse to hug him again. He was probably wondering what the hell was wrong with him that he couldn't even rouse the energy to wash his own hair. After trying for a second time and failing miserably, he put the bottle on the edge of the bathtub with a sigh of resignation.

'Want help with that?' Merle asked him.

Daryl rolled his eyes and scowled, but handed the bottle to him. 'You tell anyone 'bout this, and you're dead, Merle!'

Merle snickered, clearly amused but happy to see some of his little brother's old fire back again.

'Ah, stop bein' a drama queen. Tell ya what, I'll even throw in one of my famous head and shoulder massages.' It worked wonders on the girls, usually ended up with them in his bed. Why shouldn't it help Daryl feel more relaxed too?

'Yeah, whatever.' Daryl pretended indifference but Merle spotted one of the corner of his brother's lips quirking upwards, showing that he was actually looking forward to it.

Merle grinned and soon had his hair worked up in a thick lather, but as soon as he noticed Daryl tense up, his movements became slower and more and more hesitant. 'What's wrong, little brother?'

Daryl lowered his head. He was trembling again and didn't answer and Merle just knew that he was caught up in a flashback of Mike. Had he brought it on by touching him like that? Maybe in a similar way to what the bastard had done?

Merle prayed not, because he enjoyed spoiling his little brother and making him feel good. The last thing he wanted was for it to remind him of anything bad.

'Sh...' He squeezed his shoulder. 'It's OK, ya safe now. He's gone for good.'

He finally rinsed his hair of shampoo while Daryl leaned back and just enjoyed the feeling of water soothing his aching muscles. Merle was far from done though. He could feel that Daryl were tense and knotted – no surprise there, but under his skillful touch that made him so popular with the opposite sex as well as his lean body and hard good looks, Merle felt them slowly loosen beneath his hands. He smirked when he felt Daryl came back to himself to let out long sighs of enjoyment and marveled at the huge change in him. He really was as tough as nails, going through what he did and bouncing back so quickly because to hear their Dad tell it; Mike had been on the verge of raping him before he rushed in to save the day.

Afterwards, Merle toweled his baby brother's hair dry, something he hadn't done for years. Still, Daryl was looking better by the minute except for the red handprint which seemed to stand out even more than before. Like the pervert had deliberately marked him for his own.

Merle felt the familiar uncontrollable rage welling up inside him again even though he knew it would eventually fade away. Both of them knew from bitter experience about injuries that eventually disappeared and ones that would scar.

He was thinking that he hadn't done nearly enough to make that fucker pay, he'd stopped too soon, but he pushed down these angry thoughts. They weren't going to help his brother get over what the bastard did to him after all.

'That still hurt?' He traced around it gingerly with his forefinger.

'I can barely feel it now.'

'Good.' But Merle didn't miss the little shudder that passed through his body.

'Come on. You must be tired. Feelin'... better now at least though?' It didn't escape either of them that what he really meant was if he finally felt clean enough to be able to try to get some sleep.

'Yeah.'

Merle finished toweling his hair and motioned him to get out.

'Merle...' He hesitated and looked back at him, reluctant to get out of the water.

'Damn it, I ain't gonna look at you, boy!' He snapped without thinking. Daryl flinched and looked down at the floor making Merle feel more guilty than ever. It's just that his eye-lids seemed to be growing heavier and heavier and he didn't mean to take it out on Daryl. Especially not him. But it wasn't just tiredness that was wearing him down, he hated seeing his brother like that. But regardless, that didn't give him an excuse to snap.

'I'm sorry.' He ruffled Daryl's hair. 'Jus' tired, I guess.'

'I'm...I'm sorry too, Merle. You having to stay up and look after me. Then there's everythin' else you had to do because of me.'

Merle was momentarily lost for words. He knew what his brother was getting at, not just now where he was actually there for him. Of course he must have heard Dad send him out to punish Mike on his behalf or overheard at least some of their conversation. Or maybe he'd figured it out for himself, he was no fool. Knew it was a matter of family honor that Mike would pay for his crime.

''Ain't that. Jus' hurry up, OK?' He quickly recovered himself. 'The water's gettin' cold real fast and can't have ya gettin' sick on top of everythin' else.'

'Yes, Merle.' He bowed his head meekly in submission before he got out, making his brother want to scream at how well he'd been trained just like a whipped pet dog, not only by Mike but their damn father as well. Yet, Merle grit his teeth and said nothing and as promised, averted his eyes. Instead, he focused on listening to the sounds of his brother drying himself with the towel as he waited with uncharacteristic patience.

'It safe for me to turn round now?' Merle managed to keep the irritation out of his voice without so much as a hint of sarcasm.

'Sure.'

Merle did and barely glanced at his brother with the small towel wrapped around his slender hips.

'I'll just go and get you some clean pyjamas, OK?'

'Thanks.' Daryl tossed his dirty ones into the laundry hamper, his lips twisting in such a look of utter disgust that Merle wondered if it wouldn't be better to throw them away once and for all. For they would always remind him of the ordeal he'd been forced to endure at Mike's less-than-gentle hands. He filed the thought away for later, wondering whether maybe burning them would be kind of symbolic when Daryl could deal better with what happened?

A few minutes later and Merle was in Daryl's room lying on top of the covers. Daryl, of course, was tucked up safely in bed under it.

There was a tense silence while the younger boy seemed to ponder a problem in his head.

'Merle, what did you do to him?' His voice was low as he whispered but it held a note of awe in it as well as fear.

His big brother's arm was around him again as he decided on the best answer to give but when he couldn't come up with anything he settled on a simple; 'I got rid of him for ya, that's all.'

'But how?' Daryl persisted, his blue eyes big and innocent.

'Believe me, ya don't want to know. He's gone for good and you'll never have to see him ever again, that's all ya need to know.'

'But is he...is he...?' Daryl was stubborn in his persistence, but was unable to say the word 'dead'.

'Told ya, best if ya don't ask.'

'Fine.' Daryl reluctantly gave up but it was clear he knew Merle was right, knowing what had been done wouldn't do him any good at this point.

Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother's small hands rubbing at his own arms, becoming more manic by the second. The shower, bath and the massage had relaxed him before, but it could only do so much. Now he was back to acting like there were ants crawling under his skin. It didn't take a rocket-scientist to understand what was going on.

'Do you want to talk about it?'

Daryl nodded hesitantly and Merle got comfy on the bed next to his brother, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. His eyes were drooping with exhaustion because he knew right then that this was going to be a long night. This wasn't one of those times when a reassuring pat on the shoulder from his big brother would be enough to fix things.

Merle feared nothing ever would. Right now, however, he turned to him to try to make him articulate what he must be feeling. It was the only way he knew how to help him through some of it. 'I'm ya brother, ya can tell me. Just spit it out. I'm right here, ya don't got nothin' to be embarrassed about, ya hear me?'

'I couldn't get away, Merle. I tried, but he…he…Daryl's voice was shaking now, and Merle could tell he wasn't far away from tears. 'He put this slimy stuff on me...fuck, in me…to make everythin' easier and not hurt so much, he said... He asked me if I wanted it rough or slow and gentle but I kept telling him that I didn't want none of it. But he wouldn't listen and he didn't stop!'

Now that he'd started, it was all coming out in an uncontrollable torrent.

With that, Merle was wide awake again, heart thumping furiously in his chest. 'That fucking piece of shit!'

Daryl recoiled then and clammed up.

'No, sorry, carry on. I jus' can't believe what he did, is all.' Merle patted his hair.

Daryl could might as well have been telling Merle that he was dying what with all the emotions packed into his hoarse voice. Merle put his face closer to his in understanding, it was clear as day that the dam was about to burst and besides, he was trembling like crazy.

'Hey, hey, hey…Easy…' Merle 's fingers were moving carefully through his little brother's hair just like their Dad's used to do occasionally when he was in a good mood but would do now much more often because of Mike.

'He touched me… everywhere. I had him in my mouth, Merle, and I couldn't breathe! Sometimes I even thought I was gonna choke on him!'

Inside Merle was fuming, but he was careful to hide it since his outburst would most likely scare and distract his little brother from talking about something that was already very difficult for him.

'And ...and the worst thing was Dad comin' in and seein' me and him like that...with him tryin' to...tryin' to...' Daryl dissolved into tears when he recalled the shameful scene.

'Sh...It's OK, I told ya don't hold anythin' back, tell me everythin'. ' Merle rubbed his back.

'And he said...he said that I'd been flirtin' with him, that I led him on!' Daryl blurted out as soon as he could speak again. 'In the middle of it all, he even called me 'a tease'.

'Fucking hell! That's twisted!' Merle went pale and tightened his hold on him. 'Of course you didn't do nothin' to lead him on!'

'I fought him as hard as I could at first, but there was only so much I could do, ya know? That's when he got angry and hit me. When he first came in and sat on my bed, I still thought Dad would hear me screamin' or that you would come home soon but I couldn't keep it up… I wasn't able to fight him long enough… 'Cos in the end, I still took his dick in my mouth!'

'Sh...He scared you...' Merle stroked his hair. 'He threatened ya too, didn't he?'

'Still, you wouldn't have done it! You wouldn't have given inlike that!' Daryl rounded on him, tears of fury in his eyes. 'Anyone would have tried that shit with you and you would bite their dick off! Why couldn't I?'

'Sh...He was a big motherfucker, a fuckin' man mountain. I don't know what I would have done...' Merle lied for his little brother's sake.

'But why did he start blanking me then? He wasn't always like it, he used to take good care of us. You remember when he changed?'

'Obviously, he ignored you like he did cause he didn't feel comfortable around you and now we know why! And him and Dad had that fight, remember? Things were never the same between them after that.'

'It really weren't me then? Somethin' I did?' Daryl's voice was quivering and his tone was pleading as he tilted his face up to read his eyes.

'No, of course not! He was jus' tryin' to make himself feel better about what he was doin' by blaming you!'

'Is...is that true?' Daryl looked up at him with such pitiful desperate need for reassurance that Merle brushed his hair off his face.

'Sure is.'

'Then...Then...why do I feel like he was right?' He looked up at him in abject misery. Merle should have known – nobody gets over a sexual assault like that in one day whether it went the whole way or not. Especially when they were only 13. Worse of all - he had no answer to his question so he kissed his temple as if in apology.

'Go to sleep, little brother. Things'll look better in the morning. They always do.' Was the only answer he could give him.

Daryl turned his head and buried it in his brother's chest. Merle responded by stroking his hair with his other hand. Just when he thought he was asleep and he was thinking that it was a good time for him to slip out, Daryl spoke up again, 'Merle?'

'Yeah?' He answered more tiredly than he intended.

'Ya high again?'

Merle blinked a few times before he cleared his throat nervously to answer. 'No, not anymore. All this has sobered me up, believe me. Why?'

'Your eyes were almost black in the bathroom.'

'Well, it's gonna take me a while to calm down after what that fucker did. I'm still angry, Dad too. But that ain't nothin' for ya to worry about. Try to go to sleep. You need it after everythin' you've been through.' He brushed back his hair a couple of times and it seemed to work, at least it got him to slow down his breathing a little until it seemed like he was falling asleep.

'Merle?' He heard him ask a few minutes later just when he was preparing to leave again. He needed to get his own head down after all this. Process all of this.

'What?' He tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. 'I thought I told you to go to sleep.'

'I can't.'

'Because I'm here keeping you awake. That's why. I'll go if you want.'

'No, that ain't it. I jus'...jus' can't stop... shakin'. I don't want you to go..' He finished awkwardly, obviously reluctant to admit that he was too scared to sleep alone. Like a little kid with the lights off who was afraid of the monster under his bed.

It was true, Merle could feel him trembling like crazy constantly, except for the couple of minutes when he'd dropped off.

'Merle?'

'Yes?' He replied a little too sharply making him stroke his arm in apology.

'Can you stay? Just for tonight? It's jus' that I ...I can feel him touchin' me and whisperin' his shit in my ear.' He shivered. 'I drop off then I wake up and he's there with me. Even...even feel his weight on top of me pinnin' me down, stoppin' me from bein' able to breathe properly'.' His voice cracked. 'Please, Merle.'

Now how could he say no to that? He kicked his boots off and got in under the covers and pulled them back under both their chins. 'That better?'

'Yeah but...'

Merle grinned because he didn't really mind as much as he made out. 'Come on then.' He wrapped his arms around him and Daryl sighed in relief as he settled his head against his chest once more.

'He gone now?' He asked after a while. Daryl nodded. 'You can't feel his fuckin' hands on ya no more? Ya sure?'

'No, Merle.' He murmured sleepily against him. 'I mean yes.'

'Good. Now go to sleep.'

'Night, Merle.'

'Night.'

But it didn't last. It was two hours later when Merle glanced at the green digital readout on Daryl's alarm clock and saw that it was a mere two hours later, 04.40 am. Daryl's muttering and trembling had woken him up. But instead of feeling annoyed, it only added to his feeling of guilt as he tried to soothe him again, this time unsuccessfully.

Suddenly, Merle had the strange idea that if it was their Dad there comforting him instead, he'd sleep the whole night through without ever waking up or having bad dreams. A sibling's touch was nothing to a parent's after all.

Not like that was ever going to happen.

Something else Merle had screwed up when it came to Daryl. 'Didn't protect you and now I can't even do this properly! Some great big brother I turned out to be!' He murmured aloud, kicking himself mentally, remembering Dad's accusations.

Eventually, after an eternity it seemed, Merle finally got him to calm down with soft words and touches that he never gave to a woman once he'd got everything he wanted from her. He wasn't the cuddling type after the deed was done, but he did it for his baby brother.

Finally, he managed to slip out without waking Daryl to get some much needed rest himself. Besides, he couldn't sleep when his brother seemed intent on kicking him out of bed. But he soon changed his mind after he'd gotten something to eat and slipped right back in by Daryl's side.

Earlier, Will had also stirred from sleep and rubbed his eyes. For one blissful moment, he was unable to recall the recent events – his teenage son nearly raped, his brutal little heart to heart with Mike and then Merle dragging him off to his fate.

Then the truth hit him like a sledgehammer in the center of his chest. 'No!' He nearly cried out. 'Daryl!' He had another moment of panic then he remembered that he'd put him to bed upstairs.

His heart thudding although he knew his youngest was safe, he climbed the stairs to compulsively check on him. Anticipating comforting him in his sleep like he'd done a few hours before, he felt himself get hard at the thought of touching that silky smooth skin again, running his hand through his hair...And best of all, he'd have an excuse to touch his son without it being weird.

He'd have good reason because no doubt Daryl was still scared after the incident with Mike, left all alone in that bed by himself not to mention in the same room where it all had happened. With nobody around to comfort him or tell him that everything would look brighter in the morning.

As he mounted the stairs towards his son's room, getting closer and closer to the object of his desire, his excitement grew equally. Will found that he had to bite down on his lower lip to stop the urge to dip his hand down his pants to fondle himself...the desires were getting harder and harder to control lately. Worse- seeing Mike hurt his little boy like that should have completely disgusted him, put him off forever and how Will wished to God it had. However, just as much as he hated the man for what he'd tried to do, he loathed him even more for putting that image of them together in his head that fueled his own fantasies.

Will stopped near the top of the stairs then, debating if he should risk looking in on Daryl. He might not be able to hold back this time because at that moment, it was like Mike was taunting him.

Will regretted letting his other son punish the man, he wished he still had him locked in the cellar so that he could torture him again and again and again. Make him suffer long and slow. Draw it out before giving him the mercy of death that he'd surely be begging for by then. Will gave a savage little grin at the thought.

Mike could have been his new plaything.

Oh well, too late now, he thought as he took a turn towards his second son's room.

He opened the door slowly and froze when he saw two bodies under the covers instead of the single diminutive form he was expecting. Merle was in bed with him! Merle didn't do touchy-feely, had never been the kind of boy who liked to snuggle with his father unlike his brother. Merle didn't like to kiss and cuddle so what the hell was he doing with Daryl in bed? Will had all kinds of crazy thoughts spinning in his head, all kinds of sick suspicions that he told himself just couldn't be true.

Then he looked closer. His oldest son had his arm around his brother, it was just comfort, was all. They were just sleeping as innocently as the two lost babes in that fabled wood. No doubt Daryl had got scared and pleaded with his big brother to stay when he went to check up on him.

Will listened to the deep sound of their breathing for a moment before he trod silently across the floor to the bed. He gazed at their peacefully sleeping faces as if looking for something before he lifted up the cover. When he saw that they were both fully clothed, he breathed out a long, deep, silent sigh of relief.

Will thought that he must be losing it, right there and then. What with Mike and the sick thoughts he put into his head, who could blame him for not being able to trust anyone around his little boy anymore? He shook his head as he had to agree that suspecting Merle was ridiculous. As if Merle would try something like that with him...

Merle loves him, he thought, always protects him, he would never hurt him!

Which was more than Will could say of himself.

He shook his head as if to clear it, thinking he must be projecting his own sickness onto his son. Or maybe he was still high...or drunk. That must be it, why his thoughts were all so muddled. Also, he couldn't deny that he was furious with Merle for not telling him about Mike. In fact, it was all Merle's fault,Will hadn't even thought about how he was going to make him pay whatever he had said, how convincingly he had feigned forgiveness. Now he'd inevitably stepped on his father's toes again, taking over with Daryl like that because that was Will's job, not Merle's! Jealous as hell that Merle had denied him the opportunity, he had to turn around and leave.

At around 05:30, Merle suddenly bolted up in his brother's bed. Wide-awake like he'd never slept.

The thought that had woken him up so rudely was flashing in front of him...if his brain was a open movie theater screen, the words would be flashing garish yellow neon. Large and bright and impossible to miss.

The realization that had come to him while he slept, presumably while his drug-addled and boozy brain was working overtime to clear itself, was as clear as day now. Even in his slumber, his mind had been going over his conversation with Dad then comparing his words with Daryl's.

'Fuck!' He pounded his fist into his other palm. I don't believe it! He thought to himself. Why would he...?

Then: How could he?

Merle had no choice other than to resign himself to the fact that he wouldn't be able to do anything about what he'd found out by putting two and two together until the morning.

He also knew that he would be getting no more sleep that night. It didn't matter, the person he had to confront would be up very soon, no doubt reaching for his first whisky of the day before breakfast.

'You lied to me! Blamed me and all along...I'm goin' to fuckin' kill you.' He snarled out loud to no-one in particular. The resolve was clear in his mind.


	20. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We hope that you all had a wonderful holiday with your friends and families and that you weren't affected by the bad weather that's raging in some places. 
> 
> Some familiar names pop up in this one because everything happens for a reason :)  
> Here's another big chapter for you all to enjoy! We hope it was worth the wait! 
> 
> Remember: Kudos and comments are love, give it to us!

Seething with fury at their Dad but not brave enough to go and wake him to face him, Merle lay awake with his brother curled around him.

'Fuckin' bastard.' He mutttered into the pillow, not risking waking Daryl up. He didn't have to worry about him on that score – the kid was flat out and snoring gently. Merle surmised that he could probably get up and confront the old bastard as soon he heard him stir from wherever he'd passed out drunk the night before. Dad always got up early.

When he first heard the sign of his father rousing himself – that was thumping his way downstairs to make his first whiskey of the day no doubt - Merle dislodged his sleeping brother as gently as he could off him and slipped away. Before he knew it, he found himself practically running down the stairs.

'Well, well, look who's up.' Dad looked amused as he turned round to glance at him before going to the freezer for some ice. Ya don't normally get out of bed unless it's for pussy or to fill ya belly.'

Merle ignored this jibe and got straight down to business. Right then he didn't give two hoots what his father thought of him. 'I know what ya did. Or rather didn't do, Dad.'

Will's face grew pale beneath his scruffy brown beard but he kept his voice level. 'Oh, what's that, then?' However, deep inside he was feeling a fluttering sense of panic. Had Merle found out his secret? His feelings for Daryl? But he didn't do anything to betray his feelings! Never touched him!

'You know what I'm talking about.'

His son's voice was hard as Will took a hurried swig of his drink and turned to glance at him with feigned calmness. He beheld him with a grudging new-found respect because overnight when he hadn't been looking, Merle had become a man.

'What exactly are you accusing me of, son? I ain't hit him since it happened or done anythin' else to him for that matter.'

Yeah, nothing in the last -what- 24 hours? That makes you a fucking saint, Merle thought to himself may have been furious but he wasn't suicidal enough to say it out loud.

'Nah, that's just it, ain't it, though? You did somethin' worse, didn't ya, Dad?' Merle's voice had got a dangerous edge to it now as he grabbed the bottle and poured himself a generous measure of his father's drink without even asking. Will's eyebrows shot up in surprise but he didn't comment.

'Well, spit it out then! What exactly am I s'posed to have done this time?' Inside, the father's heart was thumping in his chest but he kept his nerves out of his voice. 'Not long ago, I would have beaten the livin' crap out of ya for talkin' to me like that!' Typically, he disguised his fear with anger instead.

'Ya let it go on.' Merle glanced towards the open door nervously and reading his mind, Will strode over and closed it. 'You let that bastard nearly get to fuck him and didn't do nothin' about it!'

Will winced despite himself. 'Excuse me? Ya been takin' too many pills lately, Merle, that it?'

'What were ya doin', huh?' He pressed on, undeterred. 'Listenin' to 'em? Then runnin' in at the last minute like a white knight in shinin' armour? That's fuckin' sick, even for you!'

'How dare you!' Will bristled and roared at that. 'What you're accusing me of…You might as well be sayin' I'm like that sick fuck! Do you really think I knew what was going on and didn't lift a finger to stop it?' He got just the right balance of outrage and disbelief in his voice and he was relieved to see the other faltering.

'It's jus' somethin' Daryl said...and you said you heard Mike call him a tease right in the middle of it...and Daryl said...' The doubt creeping into his voice didn't escape his father.

'I didn't hear that for myself, Merle. Daryl told me...I only heard them when I went to take a piss...Don't ya think that doesn't eat away at me, the fact that I only jus' managed to save him in the nick of time but couldn't spare him a whole lot of the sufferin', let alone fear?' For best effect, Will even let tears come into his eyes and slammed his fist into the table. 'He had him so terrified by the time I got there that I don't even know if he'll ever get over it!'

There was a shocked silence as the other tried to take this in.

'But ya told me that ya heard him call him that right before ya rushed in!' Merle flared back after a short pause, changing his tune suddenly.

'Uh huh.' Will shook his head. 'Must have misheard me, son. Ya were pretty drunk and high, remember?'

'Weren't that drunk! Or high! Jus' got rid of Mike, remember!' He snapped back.

'Keep ya fuckin' voice down!' Will paused and cocked his ear at the ceiling. 'Ya want him to hear? Told ya that I don't want to hear that name in this house ever again! Now you've gone and mentioned him twice.' He hissed.

'Damn it, I…'

'Come on. We were all pretty upset, still are - and none of us were exactly sober.' The father's voice had become soothing, wheedling. 'Ya dead tired too and no wonder. Ya were up all night takin' care of him, jus' like I was before you.'

'Dad...'

'Ya misheard me or we got our wires crossed or somethin'. That's all.'

With that, the last link of his resolve broke. 'I'm sorry, Dad. For thinkin'...thinkin' you'd hear it goin' on and jus' stand by like that.'

'Don't worry 'bout it.. Come on, why don't ya help me make us somethin' to eat while we wait for ya brother get up? When he's decided he's had enough shut-eye, that is.'

'Dad, it's no wonder he's sleepin' so late.'

'I know that, Merle. Ya can talk to me while we're cookin'. Be like old times, huh, son?'

Then the older man did something unexpected, he ran one hand down his son's back while Merle looked up at him in surprise. His Dad was rarely tactile with him unlike with his brother.

His father paused to look at him with an unreadable expression. 'Come on.'

Merle padded sheepishly after his father into the kitchen.

As they cooked and talked together - mostly about Daryl, they just couldn't avoid the touchy subject even if they tried, he was all they could think about. They were both worried sick about how the events of the night before would haunt him in the end.

'Dad...do ya think he'll ever get over it? Or did M...' Merle saw the thunder on his father's face and backtracked pretty quickly. 'Do ya think he's scarred?' Merle saw the cloud getting darker across his father's expression and quickly added: 'I mean mentally for life?' He asked his father anxiously.

'Not if either of us can help it. He's tough, he's gotta be 'cos he's one of us. He's a Dixon.' Will reassured. 'He'll get over it if we handle things right.'

Merle was turning over the sausages under the grill but wasn't really seeing them. He was on auto-pilot, thinking about how exactly they should 'handle things right'.

'What do ya think made him do it? I mean, why Dad?' Merle was looking up to him in a way he hadn't done for years, looking much younger, like when he believed his father had all the answers in the world like he used to.

'I dunno. Might as well ask the sun why it decides to shine some days and not others.' Will shook his head mournfully and without a scrap of pretence this time. 'I know he weren't like that...would've known if he was... ' He let a bitter half-laugh out at that. 'Well, apparently I didn't, huh? He sure fooled me.'

'Dad, the creep fooled us all. He hid it well.'

Will didn't answer for a long while and Merle would be lying if he didn't startle a little when he heard a sizzling sound coming from behind him. That noise was unmistakable because it was the sound that only flesh made when it was slowly burning.

'Dad...'

'Damn it all to hell!' Will yelled and sucked his burnt thumb. He hadn't been concentrating and had grabbed the handle of the hot pan cooking the eggs without thinking.

'You OK, Dad?'

'Course I ain't!' Will snapped as he rushed to hold his hand under the cold tap. He wasn't only talking about his blistered thumb either.

6 o'clock - the usual rise and shine time in the Dixon household had already passed. Then 7 o'clock then 8 am and the food they started to prepare for the youngest member of the family remained cold and uneaten. Daryl didn't show any signs of stirring from upstairs even though his father and brother kept an ear out for sounds of him moving about up there.

To be honest, neither of them really expected him to get up anytime soon but Merle finally got restless and worried enough and went up to his room.

Besides, Will recalled that it had already been pretty late by the time he had come across Merle with his arm around Daryl, whose hair had still been slightly damp where it was splayed across his big brother's chest.

Will had naturally been annoyed then because he'd wanted to be the one to comfort him but what he saw in the bathroom cheered up his sour mood. Something about the mess they'd made in there spoke of the love and care Will knew his eldest son had for his youngest. Merle had done his best to tidy up after Daryl had had his bath – he could see that but he'd left it half finished. Clearly because he'd had more important things to take care of than cleaning up and for once, Will didn't mind and took over where he'd left off. He even smiled as he rinsed the remaining bubbles from the bathtub, thinking that he knew what they'd been doing - using little bit of each to create a colourful potion. Daryl's idea, no doubt.

He carried on tidying up the place by putting every little bottle back in its place but when he started cleaning out the sink, his smile died when he spotted that ordinary, harmless looking tube of toothpaste and bottle of mouthwash. His hands froze in their tracks as he stopped scrubbing as his gaze flicked between one and the other like a heavy pendulum swinging to and fro.

Will was suddenly lost in his thoughts as the guilt struck him hard and he felt guilty for forgetting the previous night's events even for a single minute. What the hell was he doing? He shouldn't be happy… Let alone have anything to smile about!

As he traced the bottle containing what little was left of the mouthwash with his forefinger, he murmured, 'I'm so sorry son, for not getting to you sooner.' Will knew he wouldn't have waited so long if he'd got there earlier when the bastard had his dick forced down his son's throat. No-one could have mistaken those sounds for what they were.

In an attempt to make his guilt subside a little, he focused on the second thing that was bugging him the most instead of dwelling on things he couldn't change. Namely, Merle crawling into bed with him. What did he do to him when he was there? Did it keep him up most of the night since he now was sleeping way past the time he should have been up and doing chores?

But that didn't matter, Will wasn't going to make Daryl do any chores today. Maybe never.

He shook his head wondering at the sick turn his thoughts were twisting to and he hadn't expected him to get up like normal. Not really. But he wanted to see how he was doing.

He decided he needed another fortifier, the truth was that he couldn't face Daryl without a second glass of cheap whiskey in the morning – a bit extreme even for Will Dixon these days. But with the memory of seeing the humiliating position his son had been forced in he needed it more than ever. He just couldn't shake the image out of his mind no matter how hard he tried to block it out. Daryl, looking so small under that huge 200 pound of shit who had been his best friend Mike...crying and pleading with the bastard to stop was almost more than Will could bear.

To make things worse, he remembered Mike's slurry drunken accusations that his baby boy had been flirting with him, that Daryl had made him somehow think that he wanted it – was there any truth in any of them? Because why else did he make men (including his own father) want him so badly who had only been interested in women before? What was this strange power of corruption the boy held over grown men?

Was Daryl a little fag in the making?

Will shook his head to try and clear it, regretting overindulging in his favourite beverage so early in the morning. It made his thought-processes fuzzy. To walk some of it off he decided to go upstairs and check in on him.

'Daryl?' He whispered and rose his fist to knock on the boy's bedroom door but stopped it in mid-air when he thought better of it and flattened his ear to his door to listen instead.

Through the wood he detected rustling sounds and scared-sounding but also angry whimpers muffled by bedclothes.

'Son? You OK?' Very, very softly, Will turned the door handle and opened it slowly.

To be met with the sight of his son tossing and turning on the bed, clearly in the throes of a bad dream. It told him everything he needed to know about whether he was OK or not. Stupid question anyway.

'No... Don't want ya to...Get off me!'

Will was over there like a shot when he heard this and there was no truth to his earlier suspicions if his son's tearful whimpers of protest were anything to go by.

As soon as he got to his bed, he bent down to stroke his hair and rubbed away the warm tears running down from the corners of his boy's eyes with the tips of his thumbs. He had the time to think that to wake him up like that was better than shaking him or risk maybe sounding angry with him by telling him to get up. Although the last option would wake him quicker and cause the bad dream to end more abruptly, it would surely be too much of a shock for him. So, he settled on speaking to him softly.

'Sh...I'm here now. Daddy's here. Ain't gonna let anythin' bad happen to you.'

Yet his words did little good as Daryl continued to struggle and cry in his sleep. 'It ain't right what ya doin'…stop.'

'Come 'ere. ' Dad growled at him harshly, nearing the end of his patience, but his touch remained gentle as he carefully pulled him onto his lap with a soft grunt.

But Daryl kept thrashing about as if he hadn't heard. 'No...I can't breathe, don't!'

'It's me, Daryl! Wake up!' Will shook him none too gently, 'It's your Dad!'

His eyelashes fluttered and suddenly his eyes were wide open, staring at him in surprise. 'Dad? Wha...'

'Ya were havin' a bad dream that's all, son.' He wrapped his arms tightly around him and left it at that. What was the point of asking him what it was about when he knew already? Better he and Merle try to make him forget about that sorry excuse of a man.

'Safe now.' He crooned as he felt Daryl's heartbeat begin to slow when he slumped against him. Rocking him, he'd found, was the quickest way to get him to relax. Yet it hadn't escaped Will that the first thing his son had done was recoil back from him when he opened his eyes to stare at him not only with surprise but with fear.

He didn't think much of it, after all he'd just woken him up from a nightmare about what had happened to him the night before. It wasn't a surprise that Daryl confused him with Mike.

'Now, this is the last time I'm going to mention him.' Will hatefully spat out that last word. 'But I need to know exactly what he did to you. Everythin'.'

'What? Why?' Daryl's eyes widened in surprise and horror.

'I need to hear it from you, son. The more I know, the better I can help you through it. Now, as it is, me and Merle are just stumblin' around in the dark. So, tell me what happened.'

'Dad...ya know what he...he...' Daryl shuddered when seconds ago he'd been calm, dreamy even.

'Ya were there! Ya know what he made me do, Dad… Don't make me tell!' He finally managed to splutter out indignantly.

Will sighed, regretting spoiling the mood when he felt Daryl immediately tense under his hand but it was too late to go back now. He told himself that he needed to know the worst.

His father's eyes were relentless as he pinned him there and Daryl knew he had no choice. He never did have a choice when it came to his father.

'Ain't gonna make ya do nothin' ever again, 'cept this. I won't let anyone make you do nothin' ya don't want to do, not if I can help it. Think ya had enough of that.'

Daryl shuddered and curled further into him. Will responded by stroking his arm.

'But I need ya to do jus' this one thing for me, then I'll never mention it again. Not if you don't want me to. OK?'

Daryl paused slightly before he gave in and nodded, wondering what his father wanted to hear. If he told the truth and the whole truth, he would look like a pussy and maybe his Dad would dish out a few slaps (or worse) that he considered Daryl had coming for putting himself in that situation in the first place. It wasn't fear of pain, however, that made Daryl hesitate, not really. There was just something right then about his dad that seemed off to him somehow, and that something – whatever it was- frightened the hell out of him.

Besides, this could all be a test for all Daryl knew, his dad was simply trying to get him to say how much of a fight he put up before being overpowered. Or how he utterly failed to protect himself. Otherwise why was he asking him what he knew already? Forcing him to go over it again? Didn't he know how much it hurt to talk about what happened to him the night before?

Daryl gulped nervously and shook his head bravely in silent refusal.

He felt his father touch his hair before he let his hand rest on his scalp.

His Dad breathed out a shaky sigh then. 'I need to know, son. He hurt ya pretty bad before I got to ya, I know that much. You got to tell me, Daryl. I won't think any less of you, I promise.'

Daryl nodded, even though he couldn't figure out why his father was suddenly asking all these dumb questions when he knew better.

'What did he make you do?'

Daryl's voice got stuck in his throat when he knew he really didn't have much of a choice but to tell his dad. Spilling his guts to his brother was one thing but he couldn't describe all the disgusting things Mike did to him to his father. He just couldn't.

'He make ya take him in his mouth?' His Dad's voice was soft, the tone of someone casually enquiring about the weather but he knew that was when he could be at his most dangerous.

Daryl just nodded in shame and buried his face deeper into his father's chest.

His father tightened his grip around him and shushed him soothingly, before he carried on.

'He did, didn't he?' Daryl felt his Dad's chest hitch against his cheek and he was sounding weird. Something clearly was wrong and he was once again confused and didn't know what his father wanted to hear. He didn't know what was the right answer.

'Then he tried to force himself on ya, didn't he?' He heard him rasp.

Daryl didn't bother to answer that one, mostly because by now he was starting to get angry with his father and his stupid, painful questions, after all he'd been there and seen for himself before he put a stop to it. Something made him get up to try and scramble away but he found that he was pinned down, making that feeling of panic rise up inside him all over again.

'No...Let go of me.' He moaned. 'Don't, Dad...'

'Easy now, I know what you're thinking, why am I askin' that when I was there and saw it? It's just that I want you to be able to talk about it with me just this one time...That's all I want.'

Daryl realised that his father's fingers were still in his hair, and when he mumbled, 'My poor baby boy', and he immediately stopped trying to get away. His eyes flew wide instead and all the fear left him. Because did his father really just call him 'baby' again? Just like he did last night after he came in and saw what Mike was doing to him? What would Merle say if he knew?'

Then he felt his father loosen his grip on him slightly. 'From now on, I don't ever wanna hear that piece of shit's name again under this roof. He's gone jus' like he never existed and he ain't ever going to touch ya again, that's all you need to know.'

Daryl slumped gratefully against him, now completely relaxed and trusting.

Will held him close for a while before he glanced at the alarm clock with the glowing green digital readout.

He told him finally before he released him and put him back on the bed, 'Get dressed now and come downstairs for breakfast. It's gone 9 o'clock already. Me and Merle have already had ours but I fixed somethin' good up for ya. Come on down and eat.'

His son chewed on his lower lip provocatively in that unconsciously submissive way that drove him crazy making Will's former doubts concerning his innocence regarding Mike's accusations surface again. Was him acting more beaten-down a lingering effect of what that bastard did to him? Will prayed not and told himself it was early days yet.

'Yes, Dad.' He answered demurely fluttering those pretty eyelashes that were too long for any boy, especially a Dixon boy.

That was too much and Will had to rush out of the room to hide his excitement that was starting to bulge out of the front of his pants. But he had time to think that his eldest would never have acted like that, Merle would have had some smart comeback ready even if he received a hard slap to the face for his sassiness.

Then again, Merle hadn't received so much obedience training, Will reasoned.

'Get ya ass down here soon as ya can, boy!' He called back up the stairs when he reached the bottom. He'd raised his voice and it came out unnecessarily harsh, his words coming out hoarsely, due to his…state.

No answer. Well not from Daryl anyway.

Seconds later, Merle yanked his closed door open irritably. 'Why ya yellin' at him Dad, after everythin' that he's been through?'

'Ya stay out of this, Merle! Anyway, it's about time he was up – he can't just spend all day wallowin' in bed!'

Will hadn't meant to say that – it had just come out. After all, he couldn't have a son of his talking to him like that, he had a reputation to maintain.

Merle slammed his door shut again just as angry as before when he'd opened it and then his father heard him stomping his way heavily over to his little brother's room.

No doubt to coddle him some more, Will thought sourly to himself but then what did he call what he'd been doing minutes before? Besides, he did regret now yelling at him – Merle was right – he had been through shit.

Will growled and clenched his fists as he reached for the whiskey bottle again, he didn't know how else to get rid of the raging erection caused by his own 13 year-old. If it didn't work but got him hornier as it did sometimes, he'd have to go and take care of it somewhere else despite ordering Daryl to get dressed and come down for breakfast.

….

Merle went into his little brother's room to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, forlorningly looking down at the swirls on his carpet.

'Ya OK, little brother?'

He shrugged, still not looking up.

'Dad didn't mean to yell. He jus' don't know how to ...how to deal, is all.' Merle carefully skirted around the events of the previous night.

'I know.' His brother shrugged again but then he started to shake. 'I had a bad dream...I can't help it, I…'

The older Dixon brother sighed, sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. Daryl leaned against him gratefully. It seemed like he could use any comfort he could get.

'What that bastard did and tried to do to you is beyond sick, little bro. Don't beat yourself up for your mind working through it in your sleep. Won't help ya none, OK? I wish Mi…he'll rot in hell once he gets there…'

Merle didn't dare say his name out loud having almost a superstitious fear that if you named the devil out loud, he'd come calling on you. Besides, their father had forbidden it.

'Ye...yeah...'

'He's gone, freak can't hurt ya no more.'

Daryl looked at him then, adult suspicion forming in his eyes making him too old and too wise for his years and Merle felt like someone had taken an ice-pick to his chest. Then he opened his mouth to ask a question. But then he closed it again and turned away, clearly unwilling to pursue it. It seemed to his brother that as long as he knew Mike was no longer a threat to him, he could give two fucks what had happened to the scumbag. Why should he?

'Things will get better, little brother, I promise. Just got to give it some time, is all.' Come on, better do what he says - get dressed.' Merle released him and rubbed his back.

'Mmm...think the old man's a cookin' down stairs… must be a special kind of day, what do you say, little brother?' He sniffed the air, always excited when it came to meeting any of his bodily needs even though he'd already eaten. Merle – a growing boy still – was always hungry.

'Ain't hungry.' Daryl shied away from his hand and scowled in annoyance.

'Ya might be when ya see the food...See ya down there.' With that, Merle gave him a rather hard brotherly pat on the back and was out like a shot oblivious to Daryl's pissed-off and confused expression.

He yawned and slowly got dressed. No wonder he was so tired, whenever he tried to drift off to sleep he could feel uncaring hands touching and groping him all over again.

He didn't give a shit about breakfast, food had never excited him like it did his brother and besides, he had no appetite. Not when the man's voice and the taunting things he 'd said to him were constantly in his head… it was enough to make anyone sick.

Daryl, now fully dressed in clean T-shirt and denim jeans went down and took his usual seat where he only picked at the food on his plate.

'I'm sorry I shouted at you before.' Dad announced causing both the brothers to drop their mouths in shock. Even Merle who had been chewing his 'second breakfast' stopped and the food hung slackily in his mouth. Realising this, he clapped it shut in a hurry.

'I mean it...jus' on edge I guess 'cos...'cos...' Dad not finishing a sentence was something else that hardly happened either. It didn't matter because they all knew what he was referring to. Him looking so flustered was another thing.

Daryl still couldn't eat much though and even though this annoyed the hell out of his father, he hid it well. His throat hurt from last night...Mike hadn't been gentle when he shoved himself down it and he felt too nauseous to eat.

Finally, Daryl gave up and pushed the plate away, not having touched any of it and rose from his seat. He looked at their father and Merle fancied he caught a glint of his brother daring their father to say something about him not finishing his plate. Nothing of the sort happened though.

Merle goggled when he saw his Dad open his arms out to his brother and pull him onto his lap, thinking that surely he was too old for that kind of affection? Will merely glared at him over Daryl's head, daring him to comment on this most un-Dixon like behaviour.

'I'm going out.' Merle announced, leaving them to it, reasoning that it was only natural that their Dad was babying him after the bad scare he'd had. Still, he couldn't help being a little jealous because Dad had never held him like that...not that he could remember anyway.

It didn't matter because Merle had always known that their father loved Daryl best. He'd always been the sweet, innocent baby of the family, Dad's favourite and he'd accepted it, long ago. Still, it didn't stop him wishing sometimes...

It didn't stop hurting either.

Merle felt his brother's eyes follow his progress anxiously across the room and he felt compelled to turn back and say that everything would be OK, that he'd be back soon and tell him not to worry… But nothing of the sort came out. Instead what did come out was something a little less encouraging,'I'll be back soon, baby brother. Jus' got some stuff to do.'

Merle heard his father say to his brother, 'Let's go over and watch that series ya like' before he pulled the door shut. Yet he was already out of the house in his mind, dreaming of Kit's long, bare legs, having them wrapped around him. Her waiting and willing to distract him from his brother's pain. He just hoped she was in. Either her - always his first choice lately or if she wasn't at home he would probably go for Angie or Tina.

He was in need of a serious roll in the hay, a beer and a joint.

The order wasn't important.

…

That night, Daryl's wailing could be heard throughout the entire house. Without hesitation, Will was at his side and put a hand on his shoulder. His presence did nothing to calm down his frantic son, though, and he decided to get on top of the covers next to him instead, offering more than a hand on his shoulder as comfort.

'It's only me. Ya safe now.' He whispered, expecting him to fight him like before. But Daryl remained calm, even when he wrapped his arms around him from behind. Instead of panicking, Daryl sighed deeply and seemed to breathe easier without those rapid hiccupping breaths.

To reward him, Will brushed the hair from back off his forehead and rearranged the cover over him but decided to not get into the bed with him. That wouldn't be decent – something that the likes of Mike would do. Even if he meant well, it wasn't right for a father do that with his children over a certain age. Might lead to accusations of ...something.

Daryl interrupted his thoughts then by moving closer, sighing contently.'Like it when ya here with me, Merle.' Will heard him mumble in his sleep and he was momentarily taken aback by the outrage and jealousy he felt. But he forced himself to swallow it.

'What?' He hissed and had to fight down the urge to shake his son to wake him up and ask him. What the fuck was he talking about? Merle only slept in his bed once, didn't he? He often checked up on Daryl at night, he would know if Merle had made a habit of doing that before this.

Only thinking about it made him shake his head in disbelief. Merle wasn't like that, a boy in his late teens just didn't up and get into his little brother's bed and last night had been an exception. Probably the kid had been inconsolable – that must be it because Daryl would never stoop so low as to ask him either, let alone go to Merle's room where he wasn't allowed unless invited. Will knew this was a very delicate situation, reasoned that it was natural that he'd wanted extra comfort from his big brother and for Merle to give it to him - the poor boy was so messed up after what happened.

'Sh...I'm here.' He whispered because what did it matter who he thought was with him? As long as he didn't think it was Mike and he got over him quicker.

Practically every night that first week, Daryl would cry and act out in his sleep and if he didn't settle down, Will would go to him. When Merle actually spent the night at home he was usually passed out on his bed, oblivious and snoring like a hog at the times Daryl was going through the worst of it.

Even during daytime too, Will hardly let Daryl out of his sight. Every day was the same, he would hold him on the sofa with his head in his lap while they watched mindless TV shows, one arm always slung protectively about him while he drank his whiskey and smoked his cigarettes. Either of them only getting up to go to the bathroom or in Will's case to pour himself another drink, light himself another smoke or to fix them a bite to eat. Not that Daryl ever ate much. In between when he wasn't drinking or smoking, his father would pet his hair gently, soothing himself at the same time as he soothed his son.

Despite this boring and inactive lifestyle with most of the days passing in silence and each of them pretty much the same, Daryl didn't ever seem bored to his father. Or to stop needing him. Besides, the boy seemed reluctant to leave the house, let alone go to school yet and it wasn't like Will was keeping him prisoner.

He just wanted to stay close to his father where he felt safe and where he often would doze off because of it. In fact, Daryl was sleeping a lot both during the day and at night.

They barely talked but he knew everything his Dad was trying to say by the almost tentative way he touched him. Even when they were on the sofa, sometimes he felt his father barely touch his hair -merely ghost over it for hours it seemed before he got bolder and bolder, slowly inch by inch until Daryl felt his fingers finally on his scalp.

A complete contrast to Mike's brutish manhandling.

Best of all, there were no punishments.

Daryl knew without being told that his Dad was telling him in the only way he knew how that he was sorry, that he regretted not noticing the signs or getting there sooner.

That he regretted failing to protect him.

Daryl's other protector, Merle, would be out most of the day doing God knows what. Will thought he was doing it deliberately because by staying away, he could forget everything for a while. Lucky him. Almost like he couldn't bear to stay and see his brother looking so hurt and fragile. Leaving him, Will - to pick up the pieces. Still, he couldn't say that Merle didn't care because as soon as he got back, the first thing he would do was to check on his baby brother and ask how he was doing.

Once or twice Will would be forced to go to the shop to get the necessities when Merle wasn't around, leaving Daryl home alone. He was never gone for long though – even gave up going to the bar like he used to because Will simply didn't like the look of barely concealed panic in his youngest eyes every time he left the house. He could bet his life that what Daryl was afraid of was that Mike would somehow pop up again and come back to finish off what he'd started. Or abduct him. But Daryl was too proud to say anything and Will never suggested that he go with him. Even so, he made sure to lock the door carefully behind him even though he knew that there was no chance of the creep coming back to molest his son again.

…..

Daryl refused to eat more than a few bites for almost an entire week afterwards, even though Will promised him he could have whatever he wanted, short of the moon. In the end, both his father and brother were getting really anxious, ending up with Dad demanding to know impatiently what he wanted to eat that Saturday morning a week later when Merle was home.

'Leave it, Dad.' Merle said.

'No, he's gotta eat. Look how skinny he is now...'

Daryl looked up at them calmly. 'Said I ain't hungry.'

Will brushed back his hair. 'Tell us what ya want...feel like, ya don't have to eat a lot of it...Jus' a few spoonfuls...' He coaxed. But Daryl only looked away.

Dad shrugged and looked up at his big brother.

'How about ice-cream and red jelly?' Merle brightened suddenly when he remembered his brother's favourite food from when he was little.

Daryl shrugged listlessly, 'Whatever.' But at least he didn't turn down the idea outright like he did with everything else, Merle thought.

'Right then.' Dad ordered Merle. 'You go to the store and get it. What flavour?'

'Vanilla of course.' Merle answered for him.

'No...I'm asking Daryl.' Dad ignored him and searched his other son's eyes instead. 'Which flavour? Ya don't eat somethin' soon, ya gonna fade right away.'

'Vanilla.' He shot back with a smile at Merle. 'Can I have chocolate syrup and sprinkles?' Daryl looked genuinely happy and not like he was pretending for his father's and big brother's sakes for the first time since Mike happened.

Best of all, he looked like a kid again when he got so excited about such a childish treat. Just like with the bubble-bath, Merle thought to himself and for the first time felt a ray of hope that Daryl could recover, would eventually get better.

'Sure ya can.' Dad grinned, also sounding relieved as he hugged Daryl to him. 'Go get it, Merle, and don't forget my smokes!'

Will smiled and ruffled his youngest hair as Merle turned to leave and do his bidding.

Later, sated with ice cream and all the sugary extras, Daryl fell asleep on the sofa as usual even though he'd slept almost 12 hours the previous night. It was like he had sleeping sickness, his father thought to himself but he knew that it Daryl's mind's way of trying to heal itself. Somehow he knew that when he kept a hand on him like he was doing in his sleep, it speeded up the process.

That didn't stop the nightmares breaking out though, even during the day at times. It seemed to happen more often when Will drank too much whiskey and dozed off himself, his hand either lingering on top of Daryl or beside him motionless.

On Monday morning of the following week, Daryl went back to school, dreading it even more than usual. His Dad had told him that he couldn't spend another week holed up in the house, that he'd feel better if he had a normal routine again. The sooner, the better, he'd said.

It didn't mean that he wanted to, because if his father's friends had been blabbing, it would be all over school by now. Worse, he wasn't exactly prepared to deal with it, he'd barely slept a wink the night before until his father came in and sat on the edge of his bed without a word and stroked his hair until he finally fell asleep. Then his alarm-clock was ringing a second later, so it seemed to him in his sleep-dazed brain and his father was gone.

All in all, he'd gotten a lousy 4 hours of shut-eye he reckoned.

…..

Daryl trailed his way slowly into the classroom, determined to act like nothing had happened but it was clear by the way people immediately startled and stared at him when he entered before they glanced away (guiltily, some of them) that something had drastically changed during his absence. Was it his weight? He knew he'd lost a lot but he knew deep down that that wasn't it. Some were looking at him as if he had the plague or some other contagion they were anxious to avoid.

Most of their expressions were either curious or contemptuous - some of his classmates were looking at him like he was a new species of cockroach - while Andrea – the pretty new girl who'd moved down from Atlanta not long back, Eric and nerdy, pimply Milton who wanted to be a scientist each wore similar expressions of concern.

Then the students immediately turned to their neighbours and began whispering to each other. Daryl caught snippets of their conversation: '...it was this guy called Mike,' and 'I heard that his Dad and big brother killed him for it, probably just rumours, huh?' and worst of all, he heard , The popular boy Shane hissed, 'My Dad says he raped him.'

Daryl's breath hitched in his chest and he did his best to tune them out.

With little success.

He just wanted to die. He couldn't come back here after this. Damn his Dad for making him!

Daryl blushed furiously and would have left there and then, but got stopped in his tracks by their teacher who had just walked in with his arms full of papers, and everyone immediately clammed shut.

'Why, nice to see you. Why don't you take a seat, Mr Dixon?' He said not unkindly but his tone betrayed no sign that he'd heard anything about the scandalous rumours circulating around the room before entering it. In fact, he seemed oblivious to the whispering and to Daryl's discomfort. He just got on with organising his papers on his desk before the class began.

Mr Rogers was about 30 with dark hair. Still unmarried and people would speculate why not in the small Georgia village. Small and slim, he never yelled in class or paddled anybody of the unruly kids with the rod, not like a few of the other teachers did. He just sent badly-behaved students out of the class to see the principle who also happened to be his older brother with the same last name or he wrote a note to their parents. That was his style although most of the teachers didn't use the cane as a punishment anymore, a few older and more traditional ones did, simply because they enjoyed it. Same kind of tough old-timers like Daryl's father.

But Mr Rogers never did.

Daryl decided to steel himself and face them. After all, it would only get harder if he acted like it was true.

He was a Dixon.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shane Walsh grinning at him like the cat who got the cream. Daryl hated that jock more than anybody along with his posse of leering idiots – also jocks – that he led. Like the Pied Piper.

Nevertheless, Daryl decided to ignore him unless the asshole said or did something. It was better than acting like he had something to hide and there was no point in feeding the flames.

He would be lying to himself if he said that was his first instinct. Naturally, it wasn't what Daryl really wanted to do, standing back wasn't Dixon, wasn't in his nature. So instead, he became lost in his thoughts for a moment, dreaming about taking Shane out in the yard out back, the satisfaction of feeling his nose crunch under his flying fists after school. That was until Eric waved to the empty seat next to him, putting a stop to his violent daydream.

Daryl sat down gratefully and tried to hide from all the prying eyes.

With his heart thundering in his chest, he kept quiet, uncharacteristically not rising to the bait. Rogers didn't seem aware of the tension in the room or if he did, he chose to ignore it.

Daryl didn't like most of the other students, he wasn't bullied by any means, Shane had tried that but Daryl had quickly showed him what would happen if anyone messed with him before he even got anywhere. Daryl didn't have any friends because he didn't want any. He didn't like school at the best of times. It had nothing to do with him not being smart, he was at the top in most classes without having to study. So, in his mind, school was a waste of time anyway and he was counting the days until he didn't have to go anymore. When he could start working, maybe with Merle and finally have some money of his own.

Having everyone apparently know what Mike did to him was too much and certainly didn't do anything to convince him to change his view of school.

He wondered if should get up and just leave, right now but he knew he wouldn't. Couldn't, if he wanted to keep some of his dignity intact. Best thing he could do now was just stand his ground.

Eric slipped him a small, folded piece of paper as soon as the teacher had turned his back.

'You OK?' Daryl read quickly, before scrunching it up in his hand and letting it fall to the floor dismissively with a scowl of irritation. It wasn't Eric's fault he was in a pissy mood, but passing notes was just so goddam immature and stupid, especially when the person you were giving them to was sat right beside to you. Though he was happy on some level that Eric even bothered about him.

Even so, he glared at him. 'Fine. Why wouldn't I be?' He snapped back ungratefully. He just couldn't deal with people – even well-meaning ones like Eric – today. Or think about minding his manners.

His father didn't hit him anymore and he could breathe easier because of it. In fact, his Dad was treating him like he was made of brittle glass that might shatter any second. Maybe something good had come out of what had happened to him ten days ago, horrible as it was?

Eric shrugged and gave an easy smile in reply. While they weren't friends exactly, Daryl didn't have any of those after all, he was one chilled-out dude, who he found easy to talk to. He didn't judge anybody either. Eric also made him forget about his problems by distracting him with jokes or playing pranks on their classmates. He was the funny guy, the class clown.

It was more than that though, Eric was also an outsider, a loner like him, making it a bit easier for Daryl to connect with him on a more friendly level. They had something in common, after all – neither of them really fit in.

They glanced up when their teacher glanced at the clock and thumped his desk. 'Settle down now, class has begun.'

There were groans of protests but he ignored them and started writing out the algebra equations on the board for them to solve.

The lesson continued but Daryl couldn't really concentrate. The teacher's voice would slowly fade to be replaced by Mike's and his filthy utterings or his father's crooning one in his ear as he rocked him telling him it wasn't his fault. Or him saying that ''Uncle Mikey' was just a very sick man'.

Daryl shook his head and came back to the present with difficulty. The past seemed to be invading the present and he felt a bewildering sense of disorientation. Still, when Mr Rogers asked him a question and even though he hadn't studied or done the homework, he gave the correct answer. Daryl saw him raise his eyebrows in surprise even though the answer had been obvious to him.

That's how he knew that he was smart. Shane and the others didn't always get the answer but 9 times out of 10, he did.

Shane sneered at him then and he eye-balled him back. Daryl only felt satisfied when he saw him lower his stare as he backed down. Dumb jock, Daryl was thinking triumphantly to himself.

But he should have known that the asshole wouldn't have let it go just like that.

He didn't. When the other boy made a blow-job gesture with his hand and mouth, Daryl could feel his face getting increasingly hotter as his cheeks slowly turned pink. But the heartless teasing didn't stop there even though Andrea put a restraining hand on Shane's shoulder, shaking her head at him and hissing for him to stop.

Then, worst of all - Mr Rogers half-turned around, no doubt to tell them to shut up and pay attention and there was no question of whether he heard what Shane said next. To Daryl, the idiot's voice seemed so loud that it boomed around the classroom and probably even reached out into the corridor outside for everyone to hear.

'Hey, Dixon, what was it like being screwed by your Daddy's best friend? Did ya like it?' The jock mocked, turning back to his crew who all laughed, sounding hollow somehow.

But they were the only ones, no-one else made a sound.


	21. Loner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's been taking care of Daryl at home for a week after the assault but then he pushes him to go back to school - to normality - and it's just as bad as he feared it would be. Everyone apparently knows about what happened to him and they're whispering and staring at him as soon as he walks in through the classroom door. However, Shane's the first to bring it up directly to his face and although some can’t believe what he's just said to Daryl, they're intrigued and want to see how this goes down. No doubt there's going to be blood spilt between the two enemies. 
> 
> It's another monster chapter – so enjoy! Remember kudos and comments are love – give them to us!

Shane had asked this like it was the most natural question in the world but Daryl wasn't stupid enough to believe that.

Lost for words when any other day he would have lunged at him, he blushed furiously instead and looked around at the other students. 

To Daryl, it seemed that they were all listening intently with a silence so heavy that you could hear a pin drop. It was clear that most students there had already heard but now thanks to Shane, it was now out in the open. Daryl knew that everybody would be watching his reaction intently to see if the rumours about him were really true or not. Daryl did his best to keep his face as neutral as it could be because unfortunately their teacher was also watching them like a hawk with his mouth slightly open. As if he was ready to say something but decided not to.

Rogers had been ready to tell Shane to shut up and pay attention for the millionth time that semester but simply forgot to in his shock. Meanwhile, Daryl cursed Shane under his breath because something like this had been the worst case scenario playing over and over in his mind as he lay sleepless on his bed the night before until his father came in to offer him comfort. Daryl might have guessed Shane would be the one to bring it up and humiliate him in front of the whole class. Before he could fire back with an equally cutting put-down, however, his neighbour beat him to it.

'You're a scumbag, Shane'. Eric fought for him. ‘You don't know what ya talkin' about! It ain't even true!' 

Meanwhile, Rogers was considering his options for dealing with this unprecedented situation. He had listened to the whole exchange in horror and realised instantly that it was based largely on truth judging by the victim’s stunned reaction and that of the class. He himself hadn't heard a single thing, living as he did in relative isolation on the edge of the village, otherwise he would have been prepared for possible trouble and might have talked to the Dixon boy on his own before class. Asked him tactfully if he was OK. He could have even done it without letting on that there were rumours because after all, the boy had missed a week of school and that usually meant trouble at home.

Was the attack the reason Daryl hadn't been to school? If so, how had his father reacted? Had he been sympathetic? Rogers prayed that he had but knowing the brute, the teacher didn't hold out much hope. He allowed himself to hope that maybe if he wasn't getting any support from home that might naturally lead to Daryl reaching out to him - his teacher who he trusted, at least a little. And if this allowed him to help him deal with the sexual assault, so much the better. Christ knew he didn't need to be molested on top of the beatings his father doled out to him on a regular basis. But knowing how proud all the Dixons were and how they kept things in the family, Carl seriously doubted that Daryl confiding in him over something as devastating as that would ever happen. In any case, the class's expressions and Daryl's reaction or more accurately - his lack of one – was more than enough to answer his questions.

The teacher let his eyes carefully linger on the boy a little longer. At least the kid didn't look beat up but you couldn't know for sure without checking under his clothes.

Rogers had never seen that look on him before. Daryl looked mortified at the Sheriff’s son’s goading. Furious with Walsh, the teacher crushed the prepared test papers in his hands to control his temper, something he wasn't even aware of doing because right then he planned to make the callous little prick pay, no matter who his Daddy was.

Rogers glared at the Sheriff's boy and shook his head when he saw Daryl literally frozen to the spot, momentarily unable to respond. Not like him to be tongue-tied or fail to fight back with a caustic comeback. Nevertheless, he was relieved to see him recover pretty quickly, because he was certain that him jumping in to defend Daryl in front of the whole class wouldn’t be appreciated.

'Walsh, you’re dead. I'm gonna get ya for this!' Daryl began to grab his bags without looking up at anybody after he gave his antagonist a look of rage and contempt, clearly stubbornly standing his ground.

The students knew he was waiting for an answer from Walsh. This was a challenge for him to meet Daryl down in the yard to thrash out their problems. The teacher guessed that’s where they were going because it was where all official fights took place. He didn't interfere because he knew he could keep an eye on them from the classroom window and intervene if things got out of hand. Besides, something told him that Daryl needed to do this to maintain his badass reputation.

'Gladly! Think I can beat a skinny, trashy little queer like you!' Walsh fired back backed by his simpering and giggling entourage of both male and female students. Predictably, he didn’t dare to do anything else but accept, he had his own position as one of the 'popular' kids and star athlete to protect.

Daryl grimaced and glared darkly at him before he stormed out and Rogers still didn't call him back, he knew that he needed to get out of there. Worse – Daryl left with no-one on his side. It was one of the saddest things Carl had seen during his relatively short career as a high- school teacher. It made him despise Walsh even more for picking on someone who had no friends to back him up. Only the new boy Eric had spoken up for him and the fact increased his anger at the bully who didn't care how low below the belt he punched.

That did it, Carl was no longer able to hold back his anger as he rounded on the boy who was making his blood boil. ‘And you better not talk to him like that again while I'm listening! Get out of here now and think before you spread such horrible lies about other students in future. I'm going to have words with your father, I promise you that!' He broke off his glare. 'I’m sorry to say it everyone, class is dismissed early due to recent events.'

The students of course weren’t the least bit sorry about not having to deal with any more equations for the day, but most of them were tactful enough not to cheer as they left. Especially not under the tense circumstances.

Undeterred, Shane arrogantly smirked back at Rogers, making the man want to storm over and wring his neck for how he'd picked on Daryl and how he used his misfortune against him before he began to gather up his belongings. Carl uncharacteristically decided to let it go for the time being – if he confronted the Walsh boy, he knew it would make Daryl look weak, not to mention how it could also make it look like Shane was telling the truth and he didn’t want either to happen.

The truth was that Shane was feeling cocky because he’d been told in great detail what had happened from a figure of authority – his own father to be exact. Dick Walsh had used it to teach Shane how to be careful of predators. Although it wasn't exactly clear how far the man had gone with Daryl, he’d told him that it had been bad enough and Shane of course, preferred to think the worst. It made for more juicy rumours when he spread it around. Of course, Shane had only scoffed at his worried father in secret but he put on a serious expression in front of Dick, pretending to be shocked and worried when he knew that he could never be a victim. Then his father had ended the parable by telling him how Mike – who'd always been a permanent fixture around the town – had suddenly disappeared but he didn't elaborate.

Gone… just like that. Still, it was obvious to Shane and everyone what the Dixons had done and why. 

When the arrogant little punk continued to silently challenge him even after what he'd done to Daryl, Rogers changed his mind about ignoring him.

‘Everyone out!! Especially you, Walsh. That's 2 – no make it 3 lunchtime detentions starting from tomorrow! I won't have bullying or slander in my classroom! ...Get out! I’m too angry at you to want to have you anywhere near me right now.' Rogers spoke with a low voice that was almost shaking out of anger, reminding the students that even though he seemed kind, even soft most of the time that when pushed, he was still a force to be reckoned with. 

But Shane just kept on that insufferable smirk of his as he walked out, apparently unaffected by 3 lunchtime detentions that would mean less time spent with Andrea.

 

As soon as he was out of the door, Carl sighed because truth be told, he'd never warmed to the Walsh boy – there was just something obnoxious about him. Not to mention that he was too arrogant for his own good judging by how he wasn’t all that bright, just added to the many reasons why Rogers didn’t like him. He walked about the place like he owned it, clearly thinking that he was untouchable and something special to boot. He'd been blessed already with tall, broad-shouldered good looks, a talent for sports and a father in the local police force. An over-privileged brat if ever there was one, while good kids like Daryl ended up with nothing. 

Word was that Dick Walsh was up for promotion as Sheriff soon when the old one retired, making his teenage son more insufferable than ever.

Rogers sat down while the students cleared out, fighting the impulse to pinch his nose in frustration.

***

'Come on.' Out in the corridor, Shane reached out to grasp Andrea's arm but she slapped him away. 

'Don't touch me! You're a real asshole, you know that?'

'What?' He drew back, a thunderous look of disbelief on his face, the expression that people who were used to getting their own way and were unexpectedly thwarted often wore. 'But I thought that's why you liked me, baby.' He laughed. 

'I don't.' She snapped back, denying the slow bloom of their tentative romance before it had really ever got started. 'How could you say those things to him in front of everybody like that, what if it's true? You ever think about that? ...No! Get off me! You're a pig! Leave me alone.' 

'Fine. You and him deserve each other.' He brushed past her rudely before he made his way to his locker. There's much prettier girls than you in this school, anyway!' He shouted over his shoulder, his intention clearly being that anyone in close range would hear it. God forbid they thought he was the one who was being dumped…

She didn't reply and let him go but a single tear fell from one eye as she stared after him as he got further and further away from her without even one glance back.

…...

Carl Rogers turned to look out of the window, anxiously wondering what he could do to help Daryl before he went home but he couldn't seem to make a decision. If he'd really been molested by this 'Mike', whoever he was, he may still be in danger, not to forget possibly other boys and action would have to be taken. It needed to be fully investigated. Still, Daryl didn't seem too affected by it and had come to school after a week's absence. Rogers didn't know what he would do in that position – probably stay in bed for a whole year especially as Shane had suggested that the pedophile had gone pretty far. But how far? Was Daryl still....He shook his head sadly when he thought about what the delayed psychological effects on the boy would be. Still, Daryl Dixon had guts to come and face his peers when he knew that word had probably got around.

Carl recalled that when watching the class do exercises or other work, his eyes often lingered on Daryl more than the others. He was tough, rough just like his brother Merle before him....but somehow different. Something that attracted people's interest and curiosity, before they were usually rebuffed. The boy didn't let anyone near easily.

Daryl, unlike his brother, mostly preferred to be a loner and who could blame him with a home-life like that? It was his home environment that had most likely put him at risk with this pervert Mike in the first place. After all, didn't Shane say that he was Daryl's father's best friend?

Carl shook his head again in sorrow and wondered how long it had been going on. He prayed that Mike had only got to Daryl just this once which was bad enough, but somehow he found that hard to believe. The bastard had probably spent a long time grooming him right under this father's nose without him or his brother knowing.

Did Merle know now? How did he react?

Carl hoped that the Dixons had taught the pervert a lesson because if there was one of his students who didn't need extra grief and certainly didn't deserve it – it was Daryl Dixon.

Unable to sit still, he thought of the best way to help the boy without making things worse. He pondered on why he had piqued his interest so. He had many of the same coarse speech habits and mannerisms of Merle yet he wasn't the same.

Maybe he was more 'refined' – was that the right word? Despite his spiky, redneck persona. The boy couldn't change the family he'd been born into, more's the pity, but he was sweeter somehow. Underneath his unapproachable persona and abrupt manner which he hid under, Carl knew he was sensitive and intelligent too and it made him all the more alluring. He was small for his age but he wasn't afraid to fight. In fact he'd won most of the fights against all odds with boys his age bigger and more physically mature than him. 

Rogers had witnessed his cat-like reflexes and how he was considerably faster on his feet than his opponents. Moreover, it took a hell of a lot to beat him down and keep him there in fights, he was always instantly back up on his feet and darting his fists at his opponent. Seemingly oblivious to the pain and bleeding from punches to his face, then again, he was probably used to dealing with far worse within the four walls of his own home.

The teacher had seen it for himself, staring surreptitiously out of the window of one of the classrooms looking out over the yard just like he found himself doing now, when he knew full well it was his responsibility to put a stop to the fights. As long as they were on school property, it was against the rules big time and for repeated offences, could cause students to be expelled if other teachers reported them. Most didn't however, taking the view that ‘boys will be boys.’ However, this wasn't break – there was still about 20 mins left of the first period but clearly the whole class had gathered to watch the showdown between Daryl and Shane.

This could spell trouble, not least for the teacher himself.

Carl fell into a trance as he remembered and his eyes became unseeing, his ears unhearing except for the sounds of the fights in the past - the crunch of fists, the yells and screams of the spectators. During each of the fights he’d witnessed, he’d been almost mesmerized at the young Dixon’s muscular arms flexing, his small but stocky body rolling with the punches and getting back up again every time like he didn't feel them. He'd heard down the grapevine that unlike Merle, Daryl never started them. Didn't seem to enjoy violence for violence's sake unlike his older brother.

One such incident that went down half a year ago was fresh in his mind, like it occurred only yesterday. Daryl vs. Mark.

The latter was a pudgy boy almost two years older who’d accused Daryl of stealing his lunch money – lunch money that Mark later found buried below his books in his locker an hour after he’d gotten his ass whopped. He'd gone bright red in embarrassment when it was discovered that his accusations had no truth to them, yet he had the decency to finally admit his mistake unprompted. Daryl had accepted his apologies graciously even if he had been a little abrupt about it.

Daryl had been especially relentless in his fight with Mark, Rogers guessed it was the unfairness of being wrongfully accused that had fueled his determination to win.

It didn’t take long before Daryl managed to get his rather corpulent, exhausted opponent on the ground, punching him in the face over and over again like he was trying to get rid of some emotion buried deep inside him. Bloodying the other boy's mouth and face in the process until a teacher who happened to be crossing the yard at that moment did what was Rogers' job and separated them . In his own defense, he'd been on the verge of going down there just when the other man had brought the situation under control.

By rights, he knew he should march down there to break up the fight that was about to take place but he couldn’t wait to see the Walsh kid put in his place once and for all like he was certain Daryl was going to do.

***

Back out in the schoolyard, when Daryl felt a light touch on his arm, he immediately startled because it had come from behind. Jerking away from the hand, he whirled around to face his assailant. Seeing it was only Shane's girlfriend, he blushed bright red.

‘Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.’

'You didn't! What are you doin’ here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be with him?’ He spat, lashing out verbally as was his way, but regretted it when he saw the hurt flash across her face.

'I didn't mean ... ' She faltered under the blazing heat from his glare but found the courage somehow to carry on. 'And about...about you know,’ her voice dropped and she glanced around furtively ‘about your Dad's friend. What I wanted to say is Shane’s a dick for saying that stuff to you...I’m sorry.' 

'Not your fault he’s a dick, is it? Besides, it ain't true! None of it!' He was blushing even more furiously now and he wondered at that moment if he believed his own lies. They didn't sound very convincing, even to his own ears.

She just stood and looked at him in that unfathomable way she had and he couldn't tell what she was thinking and it made him mad when he was waiting for her boyfriend to come out. He should be preparing himself instead of talking to her. Why was she talking to him anyway? She was only pissing him off, just like all the looks of pity he got from her whenever he dragged himself into the classroom for the umpteenth time, looking bruised and battered. 

'Go on! Go and run back to him – that's why ya here, ain't it? To watch us fight?' He snapped at her ungraciously but she didn't seem offended.

'Actually I just broke up with him.'

'Good for you.' His tone was bitingly careless and sarcastic.

'Do you always have to be like that?'

'Like what?' He snapped, not even facing her now. He narrowed his eyes and turned back to watch the school main doors waiting for his enemy to approach. He was doing his best to ignore the excited jostling crowd that kept on sweeping around him. Being the center of attention and trapped in a mass of people were experiences at the top of his nightmare list. Was it only his class? It seemed like the whole school had turned out to watch. Thinking rationally, he guessed it was just his over-strained mind imagining things were worse than they actually were.

Andrea didn't reply but reached round to lightly peck his cheek and they got wolf-whistles from the onlookers who were mostly male. He was too stunned to move and by the time he looked after her, she was gone, having disappeared into the crowd.

Somehow, she made him feel better. Daryl straightened himself while keeping up his stern exterior. 

A second later, Shane came storming out of the school and strode up to them, flanked by his retinue. 

But where was Daryl's? He wished more than anything that Merle was with him – he’d teach Shane a lesson or two the hard way for sure. But then of course Daryl would look like a pussy and worse than that – he'd look guilty. He would play right into Shane’s hands seeming to confirm what he said being all true. Most of it was true, Daryl reluctantly admitted to himself but as rumors tended to go around, someone in the beginning might say tomato and at the end of the circle the word would be potato. Like that old children's game – Chinese whispers. He had some idea of what was going around if what Shane had said was anything to go by and to say that he hated gossip was an understatement.

He smiled a small smile to himself just then. Merle was nearly 18 – too big to take on the likes of Shane, it would be beneath him - even though Shane had more than a few growth-spurts during the last year. To Merle, it would be the same as beating up Daryl and Daryl knew that he would never do that.

The important thing right now though, was that he wasn’t even the least bit scared, it wasn't like he hadn't scrapped with Walsh and his minions before.

No, this was Daryl's fight and his alone. Perhaps the biggest fight of his life because he was fighting for his honor.

It seemed to him that the spectators in the crowd were all hostile, leering at him. That every one of them knew his deepest, darkest secret...what he'd done for Mike and how close he'd come to being...In his panicked state it seemed like they were all laughing at him. He shook his head, didn't let himself think about it any more, it would only bring him down if he did.

'Hey, fag!' Walsh called out to him and everyone cheered. 

'Fuck you, I ain't no fag! You're the biggest one around!' He retorted.

Shane's brows furrowed together in rage and his lackeys closed in around him automatically but he waved them all away.

'Fight! Fight!' One person in the crowd began to chant. Soon everyone around them followed suit, urging them on.

'Everyone knows about it! Might as well stop denying what we all know is true.' Shane continued to taunt. 'And that you liked it.' He added with a crooked smile.

'Ain't true! Ain't nothin' happened between me and him!'

'Oh yeah? That’s not what I’ve heard. How come he's upped and disappeared so suddenly?'

'Cos he was movin' anyway!' Daryl hadn't even thought about it – the lie had just tripped off the tip of his tongue. Like it always would when it came to protecting his brother because he knew that Merle would have made sure that Mike stayed away one way or the other. Their Dad would have told him to.

'Yeah right.' Shane scoffed at his followers and the crowd. But he didn't say that it was his own Dad had told him –that would put his old man in trouble and the Sheriff position would be filled by someone else in the blink of an eye. Obviously as a cop, telling an outsider about a crime was a big no-no. 

'Hey, Walsh… where's ya girl? Why ain't she here with you?' Daryl taunted and looked around theatrically before he shrugged his shoulders. Then he continued in an equally mocking tone, 'Oh, yeah.. She told me she dumped your sorry ass for being a dick!’

'Didn't! I dumped her, not the other way around!'

'Do ya know she kissed me before ya came out?' The onlookers hissed then held their breaths in horrified silence, especially Shane's crew who weren't there to have witnessed the kiss in question. It was a slight exaggeration on Daryl's behalf, but only slight. 

Shane's face lost all color as he was momentarily lost for words. He never would have admitted it, but Andrea's disgust at his behavior had cut him deep and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn't have let his dislike of Daryl Dixon make him sink that low. He really did like her but even so, he couldn't go back. 

'Reckon I could have taken her away from you any day, she knows I'd treat her right. So, how does that make me a homo?' Daryl seized the advantage to drive the nail in.

The crowd were getting restless, all the preliminaries and opening volleys while interesting, were not what they were here to see. They wanted blood.

***

Watching all this take place from above, Rogers watched with rapt fascination. He could only imagine what they were saying to each other to get each other's blood up. 

He knew he should go down and stop it before the exchange in blows started – Instead, he was held in thrall, watching and waiting to see what would happen, rooting for the underdog like he always did. He was just itching for that cocky bully being taught a long overdue lesson, however, the odds didn't look great and it was the difference in size that worried him the most.

He laughed to himself quietly when the taller boy launched himself at the other who deftly got out of the way. Unable to stop his momentum from the fury of his attack, Shane skidded and ended up on his back. Size and weight were not going to determine which of the two would win this fight, that much was obvious.

The high-school educator propped up the window slightly to better hear what was going on. There were roars – mostly of laughter but some sounds of dismay no doubt coming from Shane's fans and the whole thing resembled some kind of bizarre slapstick comedy where actors slipped on banana skins. Carl prayed none of the other teachers would hear the noise causing them to go down there to put an end to the fight. Some of the spectators, the ones with Walsh, made loud indignant sounds of protest whenever Daryl landed a well-aimed blow or got in a good punch.

Daryl didn't start this fight, it was only fair to let him have a few punches before he went down and broke things off, wasn’t it? Besides, he wanted to see the Walsh boy get what was coming to him. The teacher had long since come to the realization that Daryl always fought fair, no matter who his opponent was and how he personally felt about them. Also, he never kicked his enemy when he was down but waited patiently for him to get up.

This time was no different in that sense, but there was a significant change in Daryl nonetheless. The teacher could tell the boy had some trouble holding back his anger, no wonder why really.

Carl settled himself down properly to watch the match. Time after time Daryl had showed that he had integrity when he'd witnessed Walsh not being so generous with his opponents.

Now things could get interesting, he murmured quietly to himself. 

***

Down below, the fight continued. Shane fought dirty of course, paying no mind to Daryl’s fair-game as he kicked out with one leg, taking Daryl by surprise and tripping him. Naturally, he lost his balance and landed on his back in the gravel. Soon enough, Shane straddled him, repaying each of the punches he’d received in kind.

‘Where do ya get off thinking someone like you can beat me, Dixon?’

‘What do you mean by 'someone like me', asshole?’ His words were slightly slurred out due to his mouth filling with blood.

‘A fag, what else?’

Daryl chuckled loudly and rolled his eyes. ‘Not that again. That all ya got? Should’ve known that the pea ya call a brain wouldn’t be able to come up with something smarter than that. Idiot.’

Shane’s face darkened, he’d just been called stupid, that always hit a nerve more than anything. 

‘What did he make you do, huh? Where did he touch you? Did he really go the whole way with you like everyone’s saying he did? That smart enough for ya?’

‘What?’ Daryl hissed and tried to buck Shane off.

‘I’m sure the first time hurt real bad, didn't it?' He paused as if to reconsider. 'It was your first time with anybody, wasn't it, Dixon?'

Daryl blushed furiously because he knew people always compared him with Merle. ‘Shut up! Who the hell have you been talking to anyway, huh? There was no first time because nothin’ fuckin’ happened! How many more times do I have to…You must really be as stupid as everyone says if you think...’ Daryl was cut off suddenly, completely taken aback, he was caught off guard and not prepared for the suckerpunch he got straight to the nose. ‘Fuck…’

‘Better get used to the pain, I ain’t stopping until you answer me. Just tell me the truth – you let him because you liked it. And that makes you a homo in anyone’s book.’

Daryl was lying looking almost dazed on the ground at the words. Onlookers had mixed emotions about it all but then they probably (he prayed) couldn't hear their conversation. Some cheered Shane on, while others gasped and shook their heads, probably thinking Shane was taking things a bit too far when his hand gripped Daryl’s throat. When he started to squeeze, Daryl found new strength. 

‘He didn’t touch me, asshole! Not once! You've touched me more during this fight than he ever did!'

As soon as he’d said that, both the hand around his throat and the one weighing down his chest holding him down suddenly let go. Daryl took the opening to throw him off, finally succeeding.

Shane snarled as Daryl’s fist bloodied his mouth then struck another blow to his temple that made him stumble, obviously affected. To keep himself steady and not land on his ass in front of everyone, he gripped Daryl’s shirt, tearing it halfway down exposing skin in the process.

Daryl couldn’t care less, he didn’t even feel the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and nose in a steady flow. He spat close to the other boy before he spoke: ‘Feeling a bit dizzy, Walsh? Had enough yet?’’

‘This isn’t over until I put you in the hospital, fag!’

Daryl sighed and with a few movements too quick for Shane to block, Daryl had him on his back. He straddled him before Shane had any chance to get up, drew back his fist and hit him again and again, hardly aware of his mouth moving, even less of the words it was forming and what he was admitting, ‘I didn’t like it, you fuck.’ He said in time to the swinging of his blows. 'Ain't a fag. He fuckin' made me.'

His next words came out like a half-sob. 'Didn't want it, didn't do nothin’ to make him think I...'

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn't be saying this stuff – not in public and not to Shane of all people but luckily, Walsh was pretty much out for a count and Daryl had the presence of mind to keep his voice down. The last thing he wanted either was to be seen blubbering in front of everyone. 

'Stop! That’s enough!' He felt hands grab the back of his torn shirt, hands that stubbornly tried to pull him away. He didn't even look back to see who it was, he just growled and shoved the person off him.

The only thought running through his mind was to make Shane pay for everything he’d said as his fist slammed into his face again. And again.

'Come on. Get off him.' A quiet male voice said calmly yet it was full of adult authority. 'He's had enough now.' The teacher grabbed him in a choke-hold and pushed his arm up his back as he lifted him off the other boy.

'No!' Get off me!' Daryl kicked out as he was pulled away. He was dimly aware of the shocked whispers all around him.

'What about him?' Someone pointed down at fallen boy with his face all cut and bloody. Shane's left eye was already swelling up black and blue.

'He'll be alright. Might have a couple of teeth missing though.' Rogers was dismissive as he continued to drag Daryl back to the school entrance with him.

'Shouldn't we call an ambulance?’ Another worried student asked.

'No. It's not that bad, give him a few minutes and he'll come round.'

'But, Sir...?'

'I'd say he deserved it, don't you?'

There were shocked murmurs that rustled through the crowd like wind through the reeds. The teacher was dimly concerned with the consequences of treating the Sheriff's son like that but shrugged his shoulders. His connections to the Principal protected him to some extent.

As if to confirm his worries, another boy piped up, 'Sir! You can't say stuff like that!' Then, someone else protested, 'Dixon's a psycho!’.

'Oh, can't I? He was spreading filthy rumors about another student and making his life miserable and he isn't the only one Shane's bullied before. Can't say I'm surprised at Daryl's reaction.'

But Rogers was right, Shane wasn't so badly hurt after all and was coming around holding his head.

'Head hurts.' He groaned. 'And my stomach...'He whined.

'My heart bleeds.' Carl muttered under his breath as he dragged Daryl back into the school building with him. He knew Shane would be OK with his fawning entourage of admirers.

Meanwhile, the second brawler, the victorious one nonetheless, struggled against him.

'Where we goin'?' Daryl desperately tried to grab at the occasional open door with the hand that wasn’t twisted around his back, but was unsuccessful. Still, all Rogers had to do was push his arm up higher behind him and he'd hiss in pain and immediately comply. Otherwise Daryl didn't make a sound – almost as if he was as dazed as Shane had been.

Rogers motioned for him to sit on one of the tables, and had to hide a smile as Shane’s table was the one of his choice. He handed him some paper towels and leaned against the one directly in front of the boy.

'Ya did well out there. Where do you get all that strength from, huh?' The teacher beamed as he took in the student’s roughed up face and messy hair that was all over the place. His ripped shirt had seen better days too.

Daryl looked somewhat bemused as he was eagerly eyeing up the door, probably trying to figure out how long it would take him to run for it. 'You hurt my arm!' He angrily protested and ignored the praise as he glowered up at him and rubbed it resentfully.

'I didn't want to, but you were halfway on your way to killing that boy. Some of the others tried to stop you but you were too strong for them.'

'You should’ve left us alone! I would’ve stopped… Eventually.'

'Well, see, I couldn’t take that chance. I'm your teacher and you were still on school property even if classes were finished. Also, judging by how furious you were – not that I blame you – I'm not so sure you would’ve been able to stop yourself, even if you wanted to, Daryl.'

'Didn't ask for your help!'

‘You sure don't need any.’ Rogers sauntered over to him casually and pinned him against the desk to his immense discomfort. But he didn't touch him, bearing what Shane had said in mind – it didn't matter whether the gossip going around was true or not, the boy was as tense as a jack-in-the-box ready to spring out. 'Now you listen to me, son. If I hadn't stopped you because apparently none of them could, you could have ended up in jail on a homicide charge especially since his father's a cop up for Sheriff next week. You're too bright a kid to throw your life away. Let me tell you it would have gone very badly for you, you coming from where you come from and him coming from where he does.'

Daryl drew back, his eyes wide with indignation before he snapped back, indignant, 'What the hell's that supposed to mean?'

'That maybe you would wind up with the death penalty, all for that arrogant little prick! But I don't think you're a bad kid, far from it, in fact. Besides, he really provoked you, don’t forget I heard him. I’m clearly on your side here, Daryl, so stop fighting me.' Rogers knew he was exaggerating wildly but then again, his intention was to scare the boy for his own good.

Rogers backed off when he saw that his scare tactic was successful from the boy's eyes wide with fear and yet, Rogers could see that he had gained his trust and respect at the same time. Not many of the teachers had the guts to stand up to Shane. Something we could build on, he thought. 

Daryl sighed and studied his bloodied knuckles.

'You want to get cleaned up before you head on home, son?’

‘Well, where I come from, Sir, looking like this gives you respect, so ‘No’.’ 

‘Time you showed me some gratitude, instead of mouthing back, Dixon! I saved you out there!'

‘Didn’t ask you to…’ Daryl recoiled slightly when he began to bore down on him again and his heart that was already pounding in his chest suddenly upped its tempo ever so slightly. 'Wha...what do ya want from me?' He asked meekly.

This is interesting, Rogers thought, taken aback a the u-turn in his demeanor. A boy who usually stands his ground gets backed into a corner by an authority figure and feeling intimidated, asks what is wanted of him. Signs of abuse for sure. But then he's come to school beat up not just a few times. But not too badly recently and not at all the last week because he didn't turn up, he reminded himself.

'I want the truth, Dixon. That's all.' The teacher replied calmly and stopped his advance. 'Can you give it to me?'

Daryl sighed, wondering if he could tell him that the story about him and Mike was actually true. It was just too raw and painful and he didn't ever want to remember that man again, much less the feel of his greedy hands groping all over his trembling flesh.

Terrified was an understatement of how he'd felt with Mike that night. But Rogers took him by surprise when he didn't ask him about the rumors but instead asked, 'How’s things at home?'

Daryl rolled his eyes as he trilled back, 'Fine, Sir. Why ya askin' me that?'

'I think you know why.' Rogers held his gaze for a couple of seconds then let him go as if he believed him after all.

Daryl didn't know why he was always asking him that. Especially when he got beaten up real bad and it was obvious who’d been responsible unless people thought his big brother did it. Or unless he had the worst luck in the world and managed to get jumped on his way to school that was – not so far- fetched with the way Shane and his buddies were acting lately. Also, he always walked alone and the chances were higher than ever because he knew he would be a target for Shane and his gang even more after today.

But Daryl knew when Rogers asked him how things were at home, it was aimed at his Dad. He'd always reply the same way; that there was no problem and to say as little as possible. The difference now , however, was that he meant it and didn't have to cover up for his father's temper. It was the very opposite in fact, - his Dad had started to treat him differently since Mike's attack – like he was made of glass and could break any moment if not handled with care.

'Go on. Get outta here.' Rogers told him not unkindly when he saw he wasn’t going to get anywhere else with him. 'No more fighting in the yard again, ya hear! Next time I catch you, it's detention and I won't care who started it.'

'Fine… Bye, Sir.' 

Rogers sighed, hating the way his local accent always got more pronounced whenever he had to deal with Daryl Dixon. 

'Hurry up or you'll miss your next class too.'

***

'Ya were amazin'!' Eric was leaning against the wall, waiting for him after school. Daryl had rushed out before him, trying to get ahead of everyone else and be alone as soon as English was over, eager for this day from hell to finally be over. Daryl couldn't understand how he'd overtaken him without him seeing but he didn't bother to ask. They'd sat together during the rest of the day's painfully tense classes but barely spoke. Or at least Eric had tried to but he had only got grunts and monosyllables in return. Throughout the day, most of the class, particularly Shane, had pointedly ignored Daryl. Only Andrea had asked him if he was alright and Daryl noticed happily that she didn't seem to be talking to her boyfriend but was actually sitting apart from him. Most importantly, no-one laughed or sniggered or mentioned Mike again in his presence. He heard not even a whisper of his or the other's name.

But Daryl still didn't feel happy or satisfied.

Eric's excitable chatter beside him brought him back to the present. 'He'll never live this one down.' He laughed whole-heartedly and waited for the other boy to join in.

But he was soon disappointed because just like when Daryl had refused to accept Rogers’ praise, he jumped to all the wrong conclusions: ‘What? Because someone like me can beat him?’ Daryl drawled out sarcastically.

‘No, that’s not how I meant it, I…’

‘Never mind. What ya doin' here anyway? ' Daryl snapped at him, ignoring the admiring way Eric was currently looking at him. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that just because he'd beaten Shane down that the rumors would stop. In fact, he rightly guessed that his victory would probably feed them more. But at least he'd stopped him talking shit to his face. But would Shane try to get revenge? No doubt he would after being humiliated publicly like that. Right then he didn’t have the energy to deal with anything, or even talk and that included with Eric.

'I was waitin' for you, actually. Since we live near each other, thought it would be nice to walk home together.' Eric explained patiently.

'Didn't ask ya to!' He lashed out. The pain was making him grouchy as he held his side. 

His classmate's face fell and he felt a little bad for that. 'Well, if you don't wanna....' Eric started to turn and leave.

'But...it was nice of ya. Sorry, just strung out, after the fight, you know.' Daryl hastily added and grabbed his sleeve, making him perk up. 'And yeah, I am goin' home now, as it happens.' 

The other boy beamed as they left together and Daryl thought, hell, maybe it would be nice to have at least one friend. Someone on his side in class other than Andrea. She was defiantly girlfriend-material.

That thought made him shiver and gave him a funny feeling like butterflies fluttering at the pit of his stomach. Still, it wasn't unpleasant.

They walked on in companionable silence as boys often do, not saying much. 

Or at least Daryl didn't.

….

After the two boys had parted after sharing a few cigarettes to celebrate, Daryl went home reluctantly. He'd only pretended not to care that everyone knew what had happened to him, no matter how hard he denied it. That they thought he was a fag. But what hit him hardest was when that fucking asshole had suggested that he’d actually liked it and allowed Mike to do those disgusting things to him.

Then there was Eric – the only other boy in the class to treat him like he wasn't a leper.

At least Andrea had stuck up for him, didn't treat him differently. Asked him how he was. She liked him enough to kiss him, after all. His cheek, that was, he grimly reminded himself.

But then what would that lead to? He supposed he would inevitably have to explain his scars – if things ever got that far – but they probably never would.

Besides, she'd think he was ugly, a monster, a freak. She'd run away screaming. Still, he couldn't think about that long blonde hair, that fit cheerleader’s body and that full red rosebud mouth without feeling guilty...

He shouldn't be thinking stuff like that, that was something his brother was prone to do. Even though Daryl loved Merle to death, he didn’t want to follow his brother's example when it came to how he generally treated girls. Thinking of Merle and what he would do in his place though was actually a welcome respite to worrying about the future, however his anxiety returned full circle as soon as he got closer to home.

Everyone knew about him and Mike...Why would Mike do that to him if he hadn't given him some signals first? If he had, he sure as hell didn't know he was doing it. How could he have when he hardly knew what they were in the first place? He felt like he was lost in a secret world of adults who sent out signals all the time to each other and automatically understood when he didn't have the first clue what to look for.

His Dad was waiting for him in the doorway as soon as he got there, just like he'd been watching from the living room window as soon as it got near the time for him to come home from school.

'Holy crap! What happened?’ He drew him gently into the hallway. 'Ya been fightin' again?' Will circled his black eye gingerly with one finger before he closed the door behind them. Then he put his arm about his shoulders and frowned down at his ruined shirt but didn't comment on it. Daryl noted with surprise how his father’s worried eyes appeared to linger on his exposed skin a little longer than they should but he put this down as the aftermath to his frazzled state of mind. Told himself that he was simply imagining things.

He looked up at his father's face, he must have read something in it because he sighed and led him into the living room by the hand. 

As soon as they got near the sofa, his father pulled them down onto it. Daryl leaned his head against his father's chest while Will embraced him. 'Was it that Walsh boy? Did he say somethin'?'

He nodded against him, taking comfort from his closeness. 'Don't worry, Dad. I won! He had to go off with his tail between his legs but...'

'I knew it!' Will ruffled his hair. 'You're a Dixon and no Dixon can be beat.' Then, unseen by his son, his expression darkened and he frowned as his thought-processes went into overdrive. 

‘Who started it?'

Daryl thought about telling him that everyone knew, that Shane had called him a fag in front of everybody because of what had happened to him and then laughed about it. Even said he'd allowed it to happen... But he could never tell his father about that...

He felt like crying now that his adrenalin rush was over and his feeling of triumph was fading away. 'It was over nothin’, really.' He closed his eyes and breathed in the comforting smell of his father's aftershave, cigarettes and his whiskey. In the past, those same smells had terrified him. Before Mike had touched him, the same boozy smell would have had him on the edge of his seat like he always was at the slightest indication that his father wasn’t sober. But now all it brought him was comfort. Even if his dad did have a half-full glass on the coffee table beside him.

'Tell me...'

He should have known that he wouldn’t be able to hide anything from his father. He always knew when he was lying or hiding something.

‘'What was it about?' Now his father was looking at him as he held him gently by the jaw with one of his huge fists. 

Daryl was still afraid of those big fists, even now when his father hadn’t so much as slapped him since the Mike incident. Now, however, the fear of him was back in full- force, unmuted like there never had been a letup in the beatings. Especially when his Dad was starting to sound angry and demanding like he was now, he feared his Dad was going to revert back to his old self.

'N...Nothin'...' He gabbled.

'Don't lie to me, boy!'

Just then, the doorbell rang, saving him and he suppressed a shaky sigh of relief.

'Stay there.' His father ordered and released him before he got up to answer it, swearing at the interruption at such an inconvenient moment when he was just about to get the truth out of his son.

'If it's any of those loudmouth no-good junkie so-called buddies of mine...' He grumbled and stood looking in shock when he opened the door and saw who it was.

Daryl strained his ears when he heard a man's voice he couldn’t quite place. The way he talked was typical of a cop, and Daryl had a sinking feeling that he knew who exactly had come to pay them a visit, and why. The soon- to- be-new sheriff in town had come to get some justice for the pussy he called his son… Unfortunately he also knew that having the cop in their home would make his Dad extremely uncomfortable, mainly because of Merle’s drug stash, among other things. If whoever it was started poking around…

He shivered – bringing no cops to the door was one of the rules in the Dixon household. If you did a crime, you didn't bring the long arm of the law into the home by being dumb enough to get caught. Breaking the law didn't matter as long as you got away with it and his Dad was going to be mad with him for sure when he came back.

'Well, well. If it ain't little Walsh and his big cop Daddy. Heard ya up for Sheriff?' Will drawled with heavy sarcasm. 'Your boy look pretty beat-up there – that what this about? My son Daryl's a real fighter even if he's small for his age.' He went on to say proudly and stuck out his chest.

It was true, Shane's face was a mass of bruises and cuts, some of which had been plastered over. His mom, maybe? That thought made Daryl snigger to himself. Meanwhile, he hadn't had the chance to clean up yet, hadn't wanted to. Being a Dixon, he preferred to keep his marks of glory as long as possible, Merle would have been proud. Still, out of the two, Shane had clearly come off worse in the battle.

Dick Walsh cleared his throat nervously before he began. Will Dixon didn't only make his sons feel nervous in his presence but had the same effect on people he didn't like.

'I didn't come round here to cause trouble, Mr Dixon. Whatever Daryl did to defend himself against my boy I'm sure it was justified – I heard most of what happened. And I whopped his ass good for good measure.'

Daryl, where he was sitting on the couch, couldn't help wincing a little at that.

Will smirked down at the boy who went bright red and looked away. It pleased him to see the strapping cop's kid look so uncomfortable and embarrassed. 

‘Well, as the upcoming Sheriff an' all, you must know the importance of hearing both sides of the story, right?’ Back inside the house, Daryl was listening intently, he was a bundle of nerves and was forced to stifle a giggle at the disdainful way his dad insisted on using the word “Sheriff” every chance he got.

‘That’s part of why I came and brought Shane along with me. He's got something to say to Daryl, if he's already at home.'

NO NO NO! Daryl screamed silently in his head. He could see where this was leading.

'DARYL!' Will Dixon yelled back into the house. 'Come out here!'

He knew he didn’t have much of a choice, so he came running, with a face almost as flushed as his antagonist's. His father immediately put his arms around him from behind reassuringly. Will enjoyed seeing the other two goggle at this – no doubt they thought he was a monster who always beat up on his sons and he liked proving them wrong.

'What?' He snapped, daring them to comment.

'Er....maybe it would be better if we could come in awhile?' 

Will smirked when he could see why Dick Walsh was eager to get out off the street – he didn't want the neighbors listening. 'Nah...this ain't gonna take long. Is it?' He asked with a little menace.

Daryl looked at the other man and tried to get his attention, to try and make him put a stop to this debacle with his pleading eyes, but the cop was oblivious, intent on steaming ahead and clearing the air. No doubt thinking he was teaching his son to do the honourable thing. Daryl almost felt sorry for the man knowing that he wouldn't be able to reform his son, not in a million years.

'Tell Daryl what we talked about.'

Shane coughed nervously and looked at his father, unaware that his own expression was mirroring Daryl’s but Dick was equally oblivious to his own son. Or at least he was pretending to be.

Shane tried to speak, but his mouth kept opening and closing with no sounds coming out. It seemed like this was his worst nightmare coming true and Daryl felt a fleeting sympathy for him. The whole thing taking place in front of their Dads was excruciating to say the least.

'Well, ain't so cocky now, are ya? Cat got ya tongue?' Will cawed at him triumphantly.

'I'm ...I'm sorry for spreadin' stories about you...' The boy started sheepishly and he did genuinely look sorry at first.

Shane's father nodded at him encouragingly and nudged him from behind while Daryl felt his own father tighten his grip on him ever so slightly. ‘Go on…’

'Laughin' about what happened to you.' His face was gradually losing its defeated hang-dog look and now he was looking sly.

‘You laughed?’ Dick Walsh actually took a step away from his son, as if standing too close to him was contagious and he might catch some disgusting disease from him.

At the same time, Will's face turned bright scarlet and now he was the speechless one.

'I'm also sorry for callin' ya a fag in front of everybody.' Shane finished with savage triumph, looking like he’d just passed a very difficult test with flying colors and sneaked a glance first at his father, and then at Will Dixon who'd let go of Daryl by then. What he saw on those faces made him reconsider a little and his next words were chosen more carefully even if he did want to humiliate Daryl for all he was worth. Shane wanted to pay him back for what he'd said about Andrea kissing him and the rest. 'I didn't mean to let it slip out...ya know...about you and your Dad's friend... Sorry, Mr Dixon.' He added politely but with mocking eyes that betrayed him and Will wasn't fooled.

'WHAT?!’ Both fathers yelled at exactly the same time and under different circumstances, it might have even been funny.

Standing slightly behind his father, Daryl smirked back and mouthed at Shane, ‘You're dead for real this time. Then he turned to go back into the house, thinking that was the safest option but his father grabbed him. 

‘No, son, you stay right where ya are, ya did nothing wrong.’

'You didn't tell me about that!' Dick was clearly bewildered and very angry at his son.

'Where do ya get the nerve to laugh at something like that?’ Will hissed at him, eyes blazing with fury.

Shane looked down at his shoes for once without a clever comeback in mind.

‘I bet if something like that happened to you that you’d be sniveling for months, I know it. A little sissy like you who’s still got his Mama…’

‘That’s enough. I know you're angry with him and you have every right to be but…’ Dick intervened although part of him didn't blame the other man for defending his son. To be honest, his own boy’s behaviour made him feel sick to the stomach and he regretted seeing this cruel, vindictive side to him that he didn't know existed until then.

Will ignored him and carried right on giving the other teenager a whipping with his tongue, ‘And did you call my son a fuckin' fag? Nothin' happened!' Will raged, clenched his fists and bore down upon the tall boy who was still a lot shorter and slighter than the either of the fathers. He was still only 13 after all. 

Luckily, he was being shielded by Dick, who constantly had to remind himself that he was the father of this abomination and had to protect him no matter what. But he planned then to put all his energies into reforming his bullyboy son, if it wasn't too late already, that was.

'Shane, think ya said enough. Go and wait in the car! Ya sure we can't take this inside, Mr Dixon?’ Dick looked around nervously.

'Do you think I'll let you into my home after what I just heard?' Will kept his son pinned to him and ran his hand through his hair, enjoying the surprised look on the other father's face.

'Look, what happened with Mike is goin' around. Did ya really think you could keep it a secret when your buddies saw the whole thing? And now Mike's conveniently disappeared without anyone seeing him since that night, ain't no wonder some people talk.’

'Daryl, go inside and wait for me.' His father ordered him brusquely and gave him a little shove back inside.

The cop let his voice drop once both boys were gone and Will had shut the door. 'He's lookin' good though, considering...Look, if that's the way it went down, I sympathize, I really do. I'm a father myself, I’ll have to admit, this is definitely not my proudest moment being one… But if someone touched my son like that...Tried to...I dunno what I'd do in a situation like that. Maybe I'd lose control and ...'

'You'd do what? What are you implying I did?' Will snapped, thinking how much he wanted to beat this patronizing cop into the ground for thinking he understood what Daryl went through. Or how he, as his father, felt about it.

'People are talkin'...rumor-mill's a-spinnin'....Jus' sayin'...if Mike were to have an accident – on the road maybe and say a fatal one at that...Maybe his car went off one of those dangerous bends up in the mountains and his body was never found… That would be alright with me. We could roll with that and none of the boys down the station are going to pursue this....' 

Will laughed even while his heart was thumping painfully in his chest. It was too late to deny it and when he saw his good-for nothing so-called buddies again, there was going to be blood on the floor. Theirs. Play it cool like a Dixon. This could be a trap...he's probably wearing a wire....Ain't never been a cop and a Dixon who were on the same side before....Besides, Merle was the one that took care of Mike, not him. He was pretty much covered. The best defense is offence...get it out in the open…

'What ya gettin' at? Ya tryin' to say I killed him because he was the scum of the earth? Me? I know we ain't a family of saints but we ain't no cold-blooded killers.' He stamped his foot and chuckled. 'We had words -OK – maybe a little more. I admit me and Merle beat the shit out of him only to teach him a lesson – we did that and then he just left. Guess he wasn't that keen on stayin' around here after what he did to my boy and besides, we told him to never show his face around here again. Probably wanted a head start before people found out what he was.' 

'That's understandable but if questions were to be raised in the future...' Will glared at him, challenging him. 'We're on ya side. Jus' sayin', and we all agree...We don't need people like that here around our kids.'

'Well, that's real nice of ya but I don't really give a shit what you cops think. And you keep that bully boy of yours away from mine or next time Daryl’s likely to kill him.’

'Fine. I can do that. I jus' wanted to let ya know. Offer my help and my sympathies.'

'Thanks but there’s absolutely no fucking need. Bye.' Just like that, Will slammed the door in his face.

***

'Come here.'

Daryl hung back fearfully and shook his head.

'I said come on OVER! Ain't ya fault, I ain't gonna punish ya for them turning up here... In fact, I’m proud of you.’

Daryl looked at him warily and deciding that he really meant it that he wasn't going to get hurt, he went and sat next to him on the couch. 

‘I'm dead proud of how ya stood up to that cop's kid when he's bigger than you, not to mention, twice as ugly.'

That made Daryl smile, his dad had a way about him when he insulted people, he made it sound so… true.

Will immediately wrapped his arms around him. 'I'm sorry, son. Things got heated and pretty ugly out there but I'm not angry at you, promise. Just don't like cops pokin' their nose in our business.'

'I know… Dad...I ain't a fag like he said...'

‘Ya don’t have to tell me that, ya know. I know you’re not.’ 

'Everybody knows what Mike did.' Daryl had a hard time holding back his tears then… the shame of everyone knowing was almost worse than the event itself. Being forced to act strong the whole time and having to deal with Shane twice in the same day, the second time in front of both their fathers was draining and the stress and humiliation of it all was overwhelming. ‘I beat him but that don't stop everybody believin' ….they all knew, Dad! Before he even said anythin'!'

When he felt his father’s fingers moving gently through his hair, he couldn't hold back the sobs but it didn't matter if he was weak because he knew that he wasn't going to get scolded or whipped for it. Or anything else for that matter.

'As soon as I walked into the classroom, they were all starin' at me and whisperin' to each other like I had two heads or somethin'!'

'I know, I know. Would've hoped Joe and the others would have had the sense to keep their big mouths shut, fuckin' stupid bastards. Especially with Mike missing now – don't they know what that looks like for us? Still, I know Smitty wouldn't have said anythin' – not him. He don't speak much but sometimes I think he's smarter than the bunch of them put together...'

'Shane said....he said....' Daryl gulped, he was having trouble getting his words out, 'I must have liked it and that make me a fag. But I ain't, Dad! Ya gotta believe me!' He wailed.

'Right, that's it. Ya ain't ever goin' back to that shitty school...ya gonna stay here with me. Until at least it all blows over.'

'It's never goin' to! They ain't never gonna forget!'

'Oh, you'd be surprised. Give it a month or two and you'll be last year's news. There, there. It'll be OK, you'll see.’ He patted his back gently but nothing seemed to help or make Daryl stop weeping.

….

Merle came home to the sound of his brother crying and his father whispering to him. When he burst into the living-room, he could see his Dad doing his best to comfort Daryl but it didn't seem to be working.

'What's happened, Dad?' Will saw the flash of anger crossing his eldest’s features as he took in Daryl’s battered face and saw the accusation clear in his eyes when he looked back at Will.

Will stopped shushing his younger son and regarded his older one with a cold, cynical look. 

'Yeah, yeah. I know what ya think of me. Always the worst. But I tell ya, I ain't got nothin' to do with his face this time.'

'Who else then?' Merle growled.

'Well, who do ya think, Genius? You forget it was his first day back at school since it happened? Apparently everyone knows now. Staring at him, pointing at him like he's some kind of freak. And guess who was the ringleader? Fuckin' Shane Walsh and he even had the nerve to laugh about what happened to him, calling your brother a fag in front of everybody to boot! But ya got him good, didn't ya? Daryl beat the crap outta him. The little bastard looked like shit when he came around here, tail between the legs. Twice as beat-up as this one here.’

He looked down fondly at Daryl but his son didn't look up. Only his heaving shoulders told his brother that he was still sobbing but silently. Will paused and frowned before he carried on. 

'How can you make fun of somebody because of something like that happened to them? Gotta be sick in the head, right? Or some kind of psycho? Then the little scumbag's Dad turns up here – our soon-to-be new Sheriff, fuck him, tells me he knows what happened. How I feel. As if he had even the slightest fucking idea! The only ones who truly knows can be counted on one hand, the others who only think they know, shouldn’t bother! I swear, people in this village have too little to do!’

Merle took a step closer. ‘Hey, baby bro. Ya sure showed him, though. He’s the one they’re laughing at now.’

Daryl suddenly seemed to regain control of his emotions when he glared up at his brother with damp, red eyes that seemed to almost shoot lightening-bolts aimed directly at him.

‘Why? ‘Cos someone like me beat him?’ Daryl snarled. 

Merle’s eyebrows shot to the roof in surprise. ‘Whoa, easy there, Tiger. Didn’t mean anything by it. Ya know I’ll always root for you.’ 

‘Whatever…’ Daryl sounded bored and looked away.

‘Hey now, don’t be giving your brother grief. He’s just trying to cheer ya up.’

‘Hmph…’ was the only reply.

Will smiled over his head. ‘Anyway, our new Sheriff made that brat of his apologize to Daryl but that little bastard ain't sorry. He was fuckin' standin' there and laughin' at all of us. Still, Dick the Dick even said that if it looks like Mike's disappeared for good, they'll turn a blind eye.’

Merle blanched. 'Well, that's good, ain't it?'

'You don't get it, do ya? A cop is already sniffing around this place! I take it you got rid of any evidence of what you did no matter what that was?'

Merle went pale and his eyes darted away from that merciless stare. 'Sorry, Dad, I just can't deal with this now.' 

'Well, ya gonna have to deal with it, Merle. You can start by teaching that Sheriff's brat a lesson.'

'Ya mean the...the Walsh kid?'

Will rolled his eyes. 'Who else do ya think I mean?' All the time, his hand hadn't stopped stroking Daryl's back. 

'No, please don't. I made him pay! Don’t make me look weak like I can’t handle myself!’ Daryl wiped his weepy eyes.

'Stay outta this, Daryl. If we took care of him, you could go back to school.'

'Who says I wanna go back? They'd still laugh at me! They'll still fuckin’ know what he did!'

'Deal with it, Merle.'

'What?' Merle replied, a little shocked and his already chalky complexion grew even more drained of color, if that was possible. 'Ya sayin' ya want me to...to teach him a lesson?'

Will snorted in frustration. ''Course I don't mean take it too far. Last thing we want is the Sheriff turning up on our doorstep again. Jus' teach him a lesson, is all. Rough 'im up – scare him a little.'

'No! I don't need anyone to fight my battles, Merle! Told you I already dealt with him, he'll leave me alone now, I know he will!' Daryl added more quietly this time.

'I ain't doin' it. I ain't touchin' a kid no matter how much of an asshole he is.'

'Well, jus' talk to him then, son.’

'Daryl's right, dad. If I wade in there – his big brother – it'll jus' make things worse for him.'

'Fine. Don't do nothin', then, Merle. Let that little prick keep on tormentin' ya baby brother about what happened to him.'

'Daryl's said he dealt with it. Beat the little punk down in front of the whole school, sounds like. I'm sure Shane won't be botherin' him again.'

'It's true, Dad!' Daryl half got up. 'He left me alone after I beat him, I don't think he'll take his chances of that happening again!'

Will ignored him, only had eyes for his eldest who did his best at having a stare-contest with the floor. 'Ya a fuckin' coward, Merle. Get out of my sight before I do somethin' I shouldn't.'

'Fine. I need a drink anyway.' Merle turned around. 'Don't worry, I ain't gonna stay in this house a second longer than I have to.'

'Merle!' Daryl called anxiously after him.

'Why you...' Will clenched his fist and shook it at his departing back as he left the room, nearly dislodging Daryl as he did. 

Will was about to go after him but it was a small voice next to him that stopped him. 'Dad...'

He snarled but let his eldest go. Instead, he sank back down back into the sofa, drawing Daryl's head back down into his lap. The next thing he did was take another deep swig of whiskey and switch the TV back on. His eyes were glazed and unseeing as he stared at boxing match and he automatically smoothed his younger son's hair with one hand at the same time.


	22. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About 6 weeks later
> 
> Dad is getting impatient with Daryl who still suffers nightmares about Mike and isn't over the attack yet. Will he finally lose his temper and revert to his old ways? Or will he end up doing something much worse?

Daryl had been making progress – at least, he made it through some nights now without crying out in his sleep. Will persisted in giving him TLC, trying not to let on how his inability to get over Mike was irritating him.   
Still, even as he mentally cursed him for not being as tough as Merle, he used Daryl's ongoing fragility as an excuse to touch him as much as his son allowed and to check on him every night. Furthermore, he couldn't say that he didn't enjoy this peaceful father-son time they spent on the old worn-out couch together while Daryl was awake. 

It was a Saturday afternoon, Will had fallen asleep on the couch when the hand that had been stroking Daryl’s back fell away to rest at his side, the other that had been moving through his hair did the same as he began snoring loudly, unmindful of his son laying with his head in his lap. 

Daryl had woken up at that point and stared blankly at the TV screen. It was if his father's hands on him had been anchoring him and as soon they were gone, the hands were replaced with Mike’s. He watched the fuzzy picture of some crappy soap opera for a while without seeing anything but the drama in his head that was playing out. He could see that very clearly.  
Mike was whispering in his ear but not touching him yet. But he was letting him know what was coming which was somehow even worse because Daryl knew exactly what would happen if he didn’t do anything to stop his thoughts from going further.  
'No.' Daryl tried to move, but was unable to when a shudder wrecked through his body. 'Thought I'd got over ya, asshole,' he spat. 

Above him, his father stopped snoring and twitched while Daryl remained frozen in place in terror.   
In his head Mike was merciless and relentless in his groping and he was terrified all over again. He was totally sick of it… especially now when whole days and nights had passed when he hadn't thought of Mike and what he tried to do at all and he thought it had gotten a bit better. Apparently not. 

Dad shifted and patted his hair reflexively in his sleep, as he was slowly coming to awareness.

'Don't. Please don't.' Daryl whimpered pathetically, with his panic taking over, he was now convinced that the hands touching him belonged to Mike - he had touched his hair in the same way too. But he was still unable to move from where he was. Inevitably the first tears of the day made their presence known, as one of them fell from the bridge of his nose where he was laying with his cheek pressed to his father’s jeans-clad legs, onto them.

Dad snarled in annoyance over being woken up from his much needed slumber. With all the time he spent making sure that Daryl was OK at night, sleep just didn’t come easy anymore. Lately, he had to make do with what he could get.   
Meanwhile his son buried his face deeper into his lap as if trying to hide from the world and the father could feel his shoulders shaking.

'Fuck.' Will sighed. 'There, there. It's only me.' He patted his back but this only drew more sounds of fear as his son cringed away, immediately causing Will to stay his hand. Daryl didn't seem to hear him or know who he was. Will realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that this was the worst he’d seen him. Just when he thought his son was finally getting over it. This relapse was like a slap in his face. 

'What? 'Can't even fuckin' touch you now, that it?' He snapped in annoyance but let his hands hang limply at his sides, noting Daryl’s shaky breaths with a sense of hopelessness. All the affection and reassurances in the world he’d shown him lately didn’t seem to matter one jot, not at this moment in time anyway. 

Then he noticed something else too, his pant leg where Daryl’s face was pressed against was starting to feel a bit damp, and he had to hide the sigh of irritation that was threatening to escape him when he realised what it was.

He felt his son's face gently with his fingers and received a whimper in response.   
'Sh… boy. It ain't him, it's me. Wake up, will ya?'

'Dad?'

'You cryin'?' His tone was sharper than it had been for ages, and it was enough to make Daryl tense up.

‘No, please don’t touch me!’

‘What?’ Will lifted up his head with his hand to take a closer look. That soon snapped him wide awake. 

'Please, Dad, I didn't mean to...' Even after everything, his son flinched as if expecting a blow. 

Will hated how craven he sounded and if this was a month ago, he would’ve slapped his son silly for it. Remembering what he'd been through recently was enough to stop his annoyance from escalating though.  
For now.

With a forceful effort at self-control, he held back and managed to keep his voice soft and non-threatening. 'Sh...It's OK.'

'I'm sorry.' Daryl wiped the tears furiously off his face. 'I ain't a pussy.' 

'I know ya not, shh…I know you're not. Don't worry, I ain't gonna punish you for cryin'. It must all still be pretty raw. But next time....' 

Instead of replying, Daryl grew pale.   
'I only meant that you've got to get over what happened sometime, Daryl. For your own sake, and for mine. I want to have my boy back.' Will quickly backtracked. 'The sooner - the better, son. You're a Dixon, after all.'

Daryl could only nod reluctantly in agreement.  
'Get up.' Will ordered him suddenly out of the blue, hearing his own breathing grow faster as he did so. Why he'd told him to do that wasn't quite clear in his own mind. In any case, something told him not to just reach out and grab him like he would have done normally – the boy was clearly freaked out. 

Daryl got up with a questioning look but still blissfully unaware when the truth was that he was right to be worried. If he’d known the thoughts racing through his father's head just then, he would have run as far away as he could without ever looking back. But since he couldn't read minds, he sheepishly obeyed with a very confused look on his face.

'Come here.' Will commanded and spread his legs wide, indicating for Daryl to stand in the space he’d created between them. Daryl hung back at first and merely shook his head, clearly frightened. 

'Oh, come on , boy. I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'm ya father for fuck's sake!' It was true, Will hadn't so much as laid a hand on him since the attack. 

The attack was better way for him to think of what had happened rather than the rape. Somehow it made it a bit easier for him to deal with Mike's despicable actions and it was less painful that way. He could hardly bear to think of what could have happened to Daryl if he hadn't got there when he did…. In Will’s mind, he’d become the hero of the hour, riding in at the very last possible moment to save him. Still, his son had been traumatised enough, and Will knew that he would only drive himself crazy imagining the sheer terror he must have felt. So, with a huge wrench of effort, he managed to stop himself from dwelling on the details which wouldn't do any good anyway. He focused on his son in the here and now instead.

Reluctantly, Daryl moved forward to stand where Will wanted him. It was enough to make the father lick his lips in anticipation when he imagined what he could make him do while in that position. The same position Mike must have had him in when he forced him to take his dick in his mouth. This lead to Will trying to imagine what his son had been like. Whether he had done Mike over good with his mouth and tongue. Did he know instinctively how to use them for maximum pleasure without being taught like he sometimes did in Will’s fantasies? Or had he been like he was in his favourite one where he needed to be tutored? By his own father no less. Probably the latter, why would a boy his age know how to do it properly? 

The father part of him worried that this would all be too familiar for Daryl, but mostly he was enjoying watching him squirm and the power he held over him was enough to make him rock hard. Will just couldn't resist. 

'Oh, don't look at me like that, I only want to have a look at ya.' Will cooed and lightly touched his arm to encourage him to come closer. ‘Calm down. I ain't gonna hurt ya.’ He soothed but Daryl still refused to look at him.   
‘Come, now. I said there ain't nothin’ to be afraid of.’ He repeated gently and tilted his son’s chin up so that he could clearly see his face. 'See? Ain't so bad, is it?’

Ain't gonna force ya like he did, he added mentally as he looked into those sad eyes, too old and haunted for his youth. Daddy’s going to take all that pain away and make you forget.

'I won’t hurt you. Not ever again.' He spoke out loud this time and drew him closer then, praying that his body would behave and not betray him. So far, so good, but his son continued to quiver like a leaf in his arms. Will wondered briefly what made him so different from his brother – even before Mike, he had always been so highly-strung. Not weak exactly – the boy could fight back when cornered and was no coward. He should have remembered that kids rarely turned out the same and there was no use in comparing them.  
'I just wanted to make sure that you were really awake and knew the difference between me and him. But you passed the test.’

Daryl looked up at him in confusion, not really sure what his father was getting at or why he felt the need to test him like that, but he nodded in relief that it was over and that's when Will pulled him onto his lap again. 

'If you want to, you can go back to sleep now.’ Will said to him tenderly and started to rock them out of pure habit.  
When Daryl didn’t protest, Will smiled and held him closer. ‘I’ll stay awake, I promise.’

Daryl let out a deep shuddering sigh as he rested his head trustingly on his chest, relieved that his Dad hadn't punished him for crying like he would have in the past. In fact, things had got a whole lot better at home because of Mike. He was still amazed over the fact that his Dad rarely so much as raised his voice to him anymore. There were no more beatings or other punishments now, these days there were long periods of time where they just sat there enjoyed each other's company on the old couch, while Daryl glowed under the praise his father poured on him that used to be almost unheard of.

***  
But then Will did something he'd never done before. He thought of it as some sort of reward to himself for always being there for his son without losing control when he knew that it was such an easy thing for him to do. 

So, later when he decided it was time for bed, he woke up his son. This time, however, he didn’t order him up to bed like he usually did, earning himself a surprised look from Daryl. He could easily tell when he got up to follow him that Daryl was unnerved to say the least. 

'Dad – ya don't have to. Told ya already that I'm OK – I won't wake up, promise.' Daryl had turned around.

'That's not what I'm worried about, son. Go on, get up 'em stairs.' Will couldn't resist touching himself briefly through his jeans as soon as the boy's back was turned and was forced to stifle a moan.  
It was obvious that his son wasn't happy about it, after all he never did seem to remember the times beyond count that Will had been there, lulling him back to restful sleep when he had bad dreams. Besides, Will always made sure he was gone in the morning before Daryl woke up.

'Dad – you don't need to stay.' He tried again once they reached his room. He said it with that pitiful look of bewilderment on his face too, and it irritated Will that his son clearly wasn't thrilled by this new idea.

'I ain't gonna get into bed with ya, I just wanna keep watch until you fall asleep. You worried me downstairs when you told me not to touch you… That you thought I was Mike – even if you were dreaming… I don’t want you to mistake me for that piece of shit who hurt you like that.'

When Daryl saw the determined look on his face, his son could do nothing and he knew it. So he let it go.

'Get in.' He heard his Dad rasp behind him when they got to his bed.  
Daryl obeyed in a surreal daze, unable to quite believe this was happening for real. It was out of character, even for this new version of his dad and that unnerved him. He didn’t even dare to wonder why his Dad was behaving so oddly and what that strange gleam in his eye meant.   
Or why he sounded so strange.

 

Once he had drawn the cover over his son and tucked him in snugly, Will clambered onto the bed and spooned him from behind.   
'There, there. I'll go once ya fast asleep, OK, son?' However, he stayed decorously on top of the bed with the light cover between them since the heat of summer was increasing by the day. His throbbing organ wouldn't let him move too much, he couldn’t risk his son noticing his erection. 

Didn't matter, he knew he wouldn't let it control him. Dixons were masters at self-control and Will would hold back until Daryl was safely sleeping until he took care of himself. How many times had he held back from the boy throughout the years? Thousands.

Unseen by him, Daryl frowned because his Dad had never done this before – holding him on the couch was one thing but being there with him on the bed was something else entirely. Merle had done the same, he'd even got into the bed with him a few times and held him close under the covers when he really needed it. Somehow, it didn't seem weird when his brother did it. But Dad didn't do stuff like that. 

Despite his arms around him, Daryl was unable to fall asleep. He was simply too nervous and he felt his heart racing when he thought how his dad had left that threat hanging in the air earlier – it didn't exactly match his promises – there was no wonder he couldn't relax. He was on edge and wired up with adrenalin and his pulse was thumping steadily in his ears. He couldn't forget that his dad was there and fall asleep, especially when he'd slept most of the day away. 

The teenager closed his eyes and deliberately slowed down his breathing to fool him. But he still didn't leave. Either his dad knew Daryl was only faking being asleep or he deliberately broke the promise and stayed long after he thought Daryl had fallen asleep. The teenager didn’t know which was worse.

But apparently once his dad thought he was safe, he concentrated on tracing Daryl’s shoulders lightly with his fingertips, alternating between that and stroking his hair which usually would have comforted him, but this time it didn’t. This time it was hard for him not to squirm away from his father’s touch because something about it just felt off. 

Daryl knew that he only meant to comfort him, but it had the opposite effect. He felt so uncomfortable but he didn't dare move or let him know he wasn't really sleeping. His Dad would no doubt hurt him for pulling a stunt like that - Daryl had to be blind not to sense his growing impatience with him when he failed to get over Mike quick enough, he had said so himself, that from now on, he wouldn’t be so understanding about the tears or the bad dreams. His dad was a lot of things, but he always kept true to his word. 

So, Daryl found that he could do nothing except carry on and endure this new type of comfort from his father.   
….

Later on, Merle came into Daryl's bedroom to check on him like he did every time he came home and was in a fit enough state. Lucky for Dad, he'd just left mere minutes before.

Daryl blinked awake – he'd only been feigning slumber, praying that Dad would go. Eventually his eyes began to feel like they had sand in them and he was tired for real despite how long he'd slept that day already. But with the funny feeling in his stomach this brought up, he wouldn’t let himself fall asleep and when his dad finally decided to go, he had let out a sigh of relief. 

'Merle?' He whispered to the tall shape standing in his doorway, framed by the light on the landing. Nearly as tall but slighter than their father – he knew instantly who it was. And immediately burst into the tears he'd been denied earlier.

Merle wiped his hands on his jeans and was over there like a shot, crouching down in front of him, hugging him and asking him what was wrong. 

'I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a pussy.' He apologised and wiped his eyes furiously.

'Sh… Stop talkin' like that...after everythin' you've been through, nobody could blame you for gettin' a little upset now and again.'

'Merle...ya don't think I'm a pussy?' 

His brother's sad little face looking up him, pleading for approval would have melted the hardest of hearts.  
'No! Jesus...if someone had tried to hurt me like Mike did you, I would have cried too!'

'Really?' Daryl's lower lip was trembling and his eyes continued to fill with tears before he shook his head in disbelief. 'No, you wouldn't.' He sighed miserably.

‘Pretty sure I would. You been asleep for long? 

‘Nope. Hey, did you see dad?’

'Downstairs. Drinkin' and fallin asleep in front of the TV, I guess.' 

Merle didn't miss his little brother's sigh of relief.  
'What's wrong?' He was immediately alert, sober for once after finishing work and sank down on the edge of the bed.  
'Where's this all comin' from?' Merle asked as he stroked his hair softly before his voice turned hard. 'Did Dad say somethin' to you?'

'No...Not exactly...'

'What do you mean “not exactly?”'

Daryl fell silent, not wanting to say too much.

Merle rounded on him, snorting fire. 'He hit you again or said something stupid, didn’t he?' Merle wasn't as naïve to buy into this whole 'new perfect Dad' act. A leopard never changes its spots, especially a mean old one like their father.

'He didn't, alright! He don't do that anymore!'

'Maybe not. But I know him, he can say one word to make you feel bad. Knows how to press our buttons, the fucker. He's sure done somethin' to upset you.'

'I don’t know...he…' Daryl didn't have the words to explain what had happened that day, standing between his father's legs like that had sparked unwelcome memories of Mike when he'd been in the same position. And most disturbing of all, his Dad had seemed to enjoy it because somehow he knew why it would scare him. Then his Dad's covert threats, him holding him on the bed, once even pressing his lips in the feather- lightest of kisses to his bare shoulder, so fleeting that Daryl wasn't sure if he'd imagined that one. He shuddered and told himself he must have because it was too weird otherwise. Right?

When it had been comforting being close to his Dad on the couch, being this close to him in his bedroom where it had happened made him so wound up that he couldn't fall sleep. His Dad and his bedroom had always been separate – his father had come to tuck him in before, but he'd never stayed and in his mind, the two shouldn't mix. 

'No...but?' Trust his big brother not to give up until he found out the truth.

'Merle...'

His brother turned to him and it seemed like his eyes were two spotlights that were boring into his very soul and Daryl couldn't look away.   
There was nowhere to hide.  
'He...he said I should get over it by now.' He shrugged more casually than he felt and hung his head in shame. 'Said he wasn't even going to punish me for cryin' about Mike this time, but next time he would. I…I had another nightmare about him.’ He explained abashed. 

He looked up under his wet lashes only to see his big brother's face flush with anger, the thundercloud now dissolving into bolts of lightening in his eyes instead, fists clenched at his side. 

'I'm sorry, OK!' Daryl recoiled from the rage emanating on Merle’s face, mistaking it for being directed at him. 'It was MY fault, I know I shouldn't have cried but I had a bad dream. Thought it was...'

'He said what?' His brother spluttered as he interrupted him in fury.  
Daryl stuttered, and tried to say something but couldn't get his words out. 

'I knew it! Fuckin' bastard...He's never going to change...' He whirled round and ran for the door.

'Merle, don't! Come back! He'll...' Daryl started to get up from his bed to run after him but when he realized it was too late, he sank back against the covers. Merle was already near the bottom of the stairs with his long legs. A few seconds later, he heard raised voices.

'Get over it?...not punish him for cryin' but you will next time?’

‘It’s not a big deal, Merle. All I said was that I hoped that he could start getting over that kiddie-fucker soon. Quit babying him, will ya?’ 

‘That’s not how he heard it because you did threaten to punish him, didn't you? Is your father of the year mask starting to show its cracks?’

‘How dare you speak to me like that! If you weren't so big and twice as ugly, I'd…I’d…’

Daryl couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped him and tried to cover his ears to try and block out the yelling, thinking his brother shouldn't be speaking to their father like that. There'd be trouble for sure.

‘You’d do what? Whip me with your belt like you used to? Use your hunting knife? What the fuck, Dad? He's just a kid and the bastard practically raped him!'

Daryl winced at the indirect reference to his abuser. Unseen by him in the living room, is father winced right along with him as he retorted, 'Keep ya voice down. He'll hear you!'

Daryl nearly jumped out of his skin at his father’s voice but finally managed to finish his sentence weakly, '...he didn’t rape me. He only tried to.' He huddled under the covers, trying to shut out the world and the angry voices with it. 

Apparently it hadn't come to blows – it was true, Dad wouldn’t hit Merle now that he almost was as big as him. His brother would never dare strike their father but at one point, listening to him, Daryl actually thought he would he was so angry. 

Now they were just screaming at each other and throwing things, it sounded like. All over him.   
There was another big crash – sounded like glass breaking and Daryl yelped and flinched helplessly on the bed as he heard it break against the wall. 

Downstairs, Merle seemed to have managed to outshout even their Dad.   
'You stay away from him, ya hear me! Unless you're helpin' him!' Daryl even heard his brother order their Dad, making him quake in shock. 

….

But he needn't have worried, he heard Merle come up the stairs and suddenly there was a dark silhouette standing in his doorframe.

'Alright if I come in?' Daryl wondered secretly why he had to ask but still, he thought it was nice of him and that he liked it. In contrast to the loud and slightly inconsiderate Merle that he was used to, that was. 'Sure.'

'Come here. I talked to him, he understands now.' Merle's hands were running up and down his back over his pyjama shirt. They never wandered as far as Dad's did. They never slid under his clothes as if even his fingers scrabbling over his bare skin could never get close enough. Besides, unlike with their father, Daryl felt entirely at peace, after all, Merle's hands had never hurt him.

'I'm sorry I'm such a pussy.' Daryl apologised again. 'It's been a long time, thought I was gettin’ back to normal.’

'Sh...'Course ya ain't back to normal yet. It ain't been that long since...'

‘I'm trying to get over it, I swear I am! But when I dream… I can’t… And now look what’s happening! You and Dad are fightin', all 'cos of me.' Daryl blurted out tearfully, interrupting him. ‘I'm causing trouble between you…’

'Don't you worry about that.' Merle didn't tell him to stop crying, only made soothing noises as he put a comforting arm around his shaking shoulders. 

‘I jus' can't stop myself when I dream. It's like he's always there, waiting for me...' Daryl explained.

He couldn't help himself, he felt so damn weak – his Dad was right, he was no Dixon. Like he'd been stripped naked with his clothes on, he felt raw, ripped open. By then however, his brother's hands were even in his hair, doing their best to make him feel better for as long as it took. Most importantly, his brother let him cry his fill without telling him to man up once. 

 

'I ain't gonna let him hurt you, ain't gonna let anyone hurt my baby brother.' Merle growled out fiercely in his ear, yet his touch was gentle. Daryl snuggled up to him contentedly, believing his promises and Merle held him closer.  
With him, Daryl was asleep in minutes.


	23. Nocturnal Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dad's already shown some of his old side although he's doing his best to be a good father and how long will it be until the monster within is unleashed? Daryl already senses that his Daddy isn't quite right when it comes to him but he remains oblivious to the real reason.
> 
> How long can Will hold onto his self-control? Will Daryl get over Mike? He's tough but he's still a kid.
> 
> Remember: comments and kudos is love. Give it to us!

He was standing in the kitchen looking out of the window at the driveway waiting for Daryl to arrive. When he did, Will’s heart did two things, firstly it bounced with happiness over seeing him again, secondly it also sank.   
Will had been naïve enough to actually think he’d made progress, hadn't thought about Daryl in that way for almost four whole days.   
He had been hopeful that some time apart from him was the only thing he’d needed. That, however, was before he saw his son again proving that it hadn't worked and now he realised that there was no remedy for his particular brand of sickness.

Despite his sudden gloomy thoughts, Will was happy to open the door for his youngest as he returned from his four day camping trip during which he'd turned 14. It had been a birthday present from his father. Will had scrimped and saved for months for it, determined to fulfil his promise and make it up to the boy for all the times he’d been forced to stay home due to lack of money. Also out of guilt for letting Mike near him and for all the times he'd lost his temper and taken his misdirected sick feelings out on him. Even though Will knew he'd never do that again.   
   
In any case, after recent events in particular, he was even more glad that he had saved the money, the boy needed a treat. Most importantly, he needed to get out of the house and be a boy again and do normal boy things. Will was determined not to let that scumbag take his childhood away from his son. So he felt it was only fitting that Daryl would celebrate his birthday in style with his friends because Will had to face it, he didn't have much to offer him.   
   
During the time his son had been away, he'd also stopped drinking so much and was feeling much better for it – more balanced somehow.  
   
He expected Merle would be back home from work later to shower his baby brother with treats and gifts to make up for any shortfall of his. Will was pleased to see that his sacrifices were worth it because Daryl had clearly been in his element – as a Dixon, hunting was naturally in his blood.   
   
That was proven the minute Daryl had entered the door, with rosy cheeks and a huge smile on his face that never faltered. He was ecstatic over the stuff they’d seen and done, and especially over the praise from the teachers he’d got.  
   
He was babbling on excitedly to his father about his friend Eric and the things they'd got up to. Amazingly, Daryl was looking much better these days, happier and seemed less highly-strung. Moreover, he learnt that Daryl had shone over the rest of the dumb kids and won the best-tracker prize (his birthday notwithstanding)when he showed him the silver trophy. Will decided that seeing him glowing for once when he got back made all the extra shifts worthwhile. He'd actually found some work at the new calculator factory. Will beamed with pride as he held him close on his lap and praised him; 'That's my smart boy. Better than all the rest.'  
   
Will thought that Daryl hadn’t even heard the praise in all his eagerness as he blurted out: 'The best thing 'bout it was that Shane kept his distance. He doesn't bother me as much lately. I got to talk to Andrea. But she weren't so good at huntin'...didn't like getting her shoes dirty.'  
   
Will chuckled and kissed his cheek. 'So, you and her gettin' on, huh? She still with Shane?'  
   
'Nah. She's seen through him now. And she's...she's kinda pretty, Dad.' He gushed. 'I think...think maybe she likes me.'  
   
'Uhu, and what does this girl that might fancy you look like?'  
   
'She's tall with long, blonde hair. Real smart too. But like I said, she couldn’t hunt for shit.' He smiled and shook his head as if he was lost in his thoughts.  
   
Will grinned, ignoring the twisting knife in his gut. 'Well, maybe she could be a nice little girlfriend for you. You gonna try and chat her up?'  
   
Daryl blushed and looked down. 'Ain't got that far yet...but at least she's talkin' to me.'

'You jus' carry on and use that good ole Dixon charm.' Will tried to sound more enthusiastic than he felt.   
Daryl laughed and hid his face in his father's shoulder as if embarrassed.

Will thought this would be a good time to give Daryl his main present so he reached around him to pick up the small gift that was lying there ready on the coffee table.  
Daryl unwrapped it with excitement to reveal a silver-plated compass embossed with his initials 'DD' on the back. Will watched him sit cross-legged on the floor and examine it carefully as if he was expecting to find some half-hidden gem inside and he felt pleased to see how much Daryl seemed to like it.  
'To help you track, son.'  
'Thanks, Dad!' He flung his arms around him. Will beamed as he hugged him back gently.  
   
Will had made sausages, fried potato pancakes and green beans to celebrate his homecoming and everything had gone nicely for once in their home. Just like a normal family. Even Merle behaved himself and though he’d never admit it, Will could tell he was pleased to have his little brother safe back home. Of course he came with a gift, one that was wrapped in red and blue wrapping paper which he handed his brother that looked up at him in open gratitude.  
Merle smiled and took a seat at the table. 'Go on, open it.'  
   
Daryl didn't need to be told twice as he ripped it open to reveal a handsome knife, clean and sharp even with a nice genuine brown leather pouch to keep it in. Will knew that it must have cost Merle at least one month's salary to save enough to buy it. It made Will's paltry gifts – such as they were- pale in comparison and he could tell Daryl had fallen in love with it at first sight.  
   
'Heard about how you knocked them all dead on your school hunting trip.' Merle chuckled and ruffled his hair. 'I must have known you would so that's why I brought this for ya.'  
   
'Thanks, Merle.'He gushed, looking up at his big brother in rapt adoration that made Will want to grit his teeth in jealousy.   
   
'You can use it when we go on a hunt next time.'  
   
Will frowned over at Merle, his silent question clear – Where did you get the money for that? But Merle didn't see as he was too focused on watching his little brother's reaction.  
   
'Now, you be careful with that. Make sure you don't kill anybody.' Will grumbled.  
   
'Leave him alone, Dad.' Merle looked at him sharply.   
   
Will let that one go but wondered when the dynamics in their relationship had changed so that a son of his dared to tell him what to do.  
   
Meanwhile, Daryl looked up at Merle from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor like he was the second coming. Something else that grated on Will who'd been happy only a couple of hours ago. On top of all this, Merle promised Daryl he would take him out to go bowling and for burger and chips the next day which happened to be the weekend.  
   
Accompanying his growing anger at his disrespectful and ungrateful older offspring, Will noticed with dismay that boy, the urges had come back - right along with the boy - in all of their former glory. Pictures so clear in his mind that it was sometimes difficult for him to tell the difference between fantasy and reality even. Worse – it seemed like the 4 day break had forced those feelings back with a vengeance and Will felt like he was drowning in them, unable to withstand the waves of desire crashing over his head.  
So he distracted himself with unimportant stuff throughout the evening, actually managing to even have a conversation with his boys as they ate after the presents were opened without his mind drifting off to inappropriate-land.   
   
He was feeling pleased with himself, if he could just distract himself doing other things, maybe it would all work out.

After their meal, father and sons watched soccer matches on TV in a compatible silence – for an hour or two until Merle got a phone call announcing that he was going out. The look of heartbroken disappointment that Daryl gave his brother made Will feel savagely glad.  
   
Merle finally noticed his brother's reaction but only shrugged his shoulders apologetically at him. 'I'm sorry. It's work - I gotta go.'  
   
'What kind of work calls you up at nearly 11pm, for fuck's sake?' Will scowled at him. Will was pissed off as hell with him not only because Daryl favored his present but now for cuttingback on his promise. No doubt Daryl realized that this probably meant that Merle wouldn't be taking him out the next day.   
   
Daryl still looked upset but shrugged back and smiled sweetly. 'It's OK, Merle. Thanks for the knife, anyway. It was an awesome gift!'   
   
Will felt gratified that Merle wasn't perfect after all in Daryl’s eyes, he couldn’t be, not when letting him down like that.   
   
'I'm sorry, bro. I'll make it up to you, promise.'  
With that, Merle picked up his wallet and was gone, just like that.   
   
'Come here, boy.' Their father opened his arms to him. 'It's OK. We'll have fun even if it is only just you and me.'   
As the evening went on and he drank more and more, Will was dangerously tempted to let out his anger on the boy in a sharp turnabout in his mood. Daryl must have sensed it – the boy didn't miss a trick when it came to him and hesitantly said that he was feeling tired and was going up to bed. Will let him go because it was nearly midnight, anyway.  
   
Will realized that his fists were clenched tightly at his sides and released them. He tried to keep the snarl out of his voice as he nodded and wished the boy goodnight.  
   
Daryl frowned and hurriedly left the room. ''Night, Dad.'' He answered without looking back.   
   
After his youngest son left, Will slumped back and released a sigh.   
   
It had proved to be a particularly nasty day for him due to the demons in his head, at the same time that his son seemed to be getting over his. Will's on the other hand, had stubbornly returned when it started to become clear that Daryl no longer needed him as much as he previously did. As the nightmares receded and he got stronger, Will grew weaker and since the confrontation with his eldest son, he'd been more careful than ever with what he said and did in front of the boy.   
   
More often than not, Will had been annoyed at Daryl’s neediness but inexplicably when that slowly disappeared, it wasn’t long until Will realized it was when he felt whole.  
   
Maybe it had all to do with it just being a weird after-shock stemming from losing his wife. Forcing him to direct his attentions and needs to the nearest person at hand. Also, his mind and his heart, both full of loneliness and a sorrow still raw, had become misdirected at his own son.   
   
That sense of hope he felt, when he was trying to justify his feelings to himself would be shattered into a million pieces when sleep finally claimed him late at night.  
   
   
He dozed off in the armchair, definitely not for the first time once he started on the hard stuff. He woke up with a start.  The TV was still flickering – some crappy old black and white movie and his glass of whiskey still had a fewdrops in it so he picked it up and drained it with a grunt before he made his way upstairs.

Will told himself that he was checking up on him, that he wasn't having any more bad dreams... One guilty thought had time to pass through his troubled mind before he opened the door. Telling himself that he was afraid that now the kid was back home in the same bed where it happened, the nightmares might resurface even though they'd had a nice time. For a long time after Mike, Will had made it his habit to go and check on his son in bed – sometimes several times a night. The boy rarely woke up even in the throes of a nightmare.  
   
Will liked to imagine that somehow even if Daryl wasn’t fully aware, he could still feel that he was not alone and that his father was there, watching over him even in his sleep.  
Closing the bedroom door quietly behind him, he gasped at what he saw there and bit his knuckles. His son's dark hair splayed out all over the pillow, his cheeks rosy for once and his boyishly narrow, pale shoulders bare. Despite himself, Will couldn't help wondering if the boy went to sleep naked under the sheet like he and Merle did when it was too hot to do anything else. Georgian summers could be savage, and this one certainly took first prize because it was only the beginning of June.  
   
He was just about to pull down the sheet further when Daryl started muttering in his sleep just as Will had feared.  Twisting and jerking, getting himself all tangled up in it.  
   
'No...don't. Don't touch me!' He yelled furiously - so loud that Will was surprised Daryl didn’t wake himself up. He felt a surge of pride at the spirit he showed even in his sleep.  
   
He moved closer then, looking down at his son, whose face was twisted in anxiety- So much that Will felt the urge to wake him, to free him from his nightmare.   
   
'Sh...sh...Easy now, son.' Will gently stroked his hair off his face, deciding it was probably best to let Daryl work things out in his sleep, maybe that would make it easier for him in the long run. But not waking him up didn’t mean he couldn’t comfort him, so he sat next to him. 'It's OK. Ain't no one gonna touch ya. Daddy won't let them.' He soothed.  
   
'Get the fuck off me.' Daryl ordered him so sharply in his sleep that Will immediately tore his hand away. He frowned as he let it just hover above his son’s head for a few seconds. But Daryl started to sob then, a heart-breaking noise that was full of panic and vulnerability, tearing Will's heart to shreds. Not least because it reminded him of the noises he’d heard coming from his room that night when he'd kicked the door in.   
   
'Didn’t ya hear? I don't wanna… Please don't...'. He pleaded.  
   
Will forgot all about his guilty thoughts, of course Daryl was dreaming about that piece of shit again. About what he did to him. He regretted that he hadn't made Mike hurt more. But then he knew he could trust Merle to take revenge on Daryl's behalf.  Yet the rage was still mixed with grief because Mike had been like a brother to him, after all. Yet, he didn't grieve for him whenever he remembered what he'd tried to do to his son. In fact felt no sorrow or pity for the man whatsoever because it had also been an insult to him because Daryl was his to do what he pleased with.   
Daryl belonged to him.   
   
His son broke his train of thoughts by continuing to thrash around in his sleep, almost tumbling off the bed now. Will, used his arm as a barrier to prevent him from falling but still without touching him. 'Please...don't make me...' Daryl whimpered pathetically in his sleep and Will hated that sound of weakness. The boy couldn't sound less Dixon-like if he tried.  
   
Instead of getting angry though, he continued to speak to him softly, 'It's OK, Daddy's here. Ain't gonna let no one hurt ya.'  Will drew back a little before he cautiously started stroking his hair on the back of his neck now like he knew he liked. He found it soothing himself to run his fingers through its glossy softness. He noticed that it was getting long there – he'd have to remind him to get a haircut.   
   
Will's heart nearly leapt into his mouth when Daryl moved closer to him – or rather to his hand in his sleep. He wasn't trying to wake him up – didn't want to disturb his rest no matter how tormented that rest was. But miraculously, Daryl started to calm down. Just like he'd heard his words in his sleep.   
'That's my sweet boy.' Will crooned at him. 'So brave and innocent even after everything he did to you.' He gushed quietly. 'You kept your purity.' He murmured in awe as he caressed him gently in his sleep.

Daryl muttered to himself at this but quietened down before he turned over and started to snore softly. The sheet slipped down his back then, revealing the welts and scars from last time he had lost his temper.  

Will winced despite himself, remembering when he'd given him all those lashes at once, his son not giving him an inch until the very last one's. Daryl was the same when he cut him with the knife, not a peep. That had just made Will see red. He had lost control simply because Daryl had toughened up by then and refused to cry or beg for him to stop like he used to. But then, as he drew the rest of the sheet down to reveal more of his boy's body his thoughts began to wonder again. 

He moved very carefully, to not wake him up. Will ran his eyes over his round buttocks, completely smooth except for the faded red, angry scars crossing them.   
   
Did he really do that? He wondered not for the first time. Two years seemed like a lifetime ago. Again, he felt that old stab of guilt, he hadn't meant to go that far. Things had just got of control especially when Daryl had refused to give in, refusing to make a sound like that. Making a statement of his own more like. Even though Will had wanted him to toughen up, at that particular time his subconscious had clearly wanted the boy to be as submissive as he could possibly be.  
   
But mostly he’d lost it because of those feelings the boy aroused in him – the emotions he had to force down every day.   
   
He looked at his face briefly and listened to his snores and regular breathing – checking that he was fast asleep. The last thing Will wanted was Daryl waking up. He doubted he would, the boy slept like the dead most nights and he was pretty sure that he could do what he wanted to without the boy ever being aware of it.  
   
He only wanted to touch and touching wasn't hurting, was it? Besides, if he did it right, Daryl wouldn't even know. This would all hopefully get tangled up in a dream, replacing him with Mike as the leading-role.

 

He was going to get some pleasure from his son like Mike had tried to do, He just had to make sure he did it right without scaring or damaging him further.   
   
He found his eyes drawn to his son's back, before he knew it his eyes wandered further down to those perfect white globes of flesh again. Will felt himself get excited –  and he savagely tried to push his arousal down with thoughts that would take care of that problem. But nothing seemed to work. Not even thinking about Roberta Watkins saggy tits - that she flaunted by not wearing a bra - did the trick.

He stretched out his hand and tentatively traced the scars running across his son's buttocks with his index finger but stopped immediately when he felt Daryl stir. He muttered something inaudible but still didn't wake up.   
   
Getting braver now, Will carried on where he'd left off. 'My beautiful boy,' he whispered, spell-bound, seeing what Mike had seen. Suddenly another idea popped into his head.  He wanted to do something else –  but could he?  
'Daddy ain't gonna hurt you, not like Mikey, that sick fuck.' He snarled.'Ain't never gonna hurt my sweet, innocent boy. Not like that.'   
   
He reached down and did what he'd fantasised about. Kissed those scars lightly, giving each one two or three kisses, and prepared himself carefully for the next step. 

All the time wondering if he could really go through with it.


	24. Incubus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Will planning to do something unforgivable to Daryl? How can he without waking him up? 
> 
> This is a graphic chapter people, more so than the others. Keep that in mind before reading.  
> Remember: kudos and comments are love, give it to us!

However, with a great sense of relief, Will felt those shameful feelings recede after having laid his lips on his son down there like that. He didn't know if it was the act itself or if it was Daryl who had a calming effect on him, but he guessed probably a bit of both. In any case, Will wasn't in any hurry to return to that anxious man he'd become lately.

A man that felt a hunger that he wished he'd never experienced.

'Sh...' Will ran his hand through Daryl's hair for what he thought was the last time that night.  
'Ain't going to happen tonight, I know that. And I'm OK with it.'

Daryl fidgeted restlessly and muttered something incomprehensible. Will conveniently interpreted it to mean that he was as disappointed as he was with the same empty ache in his chest that he'd had since his wife died. Will knew that it was only his younger son who was able to fill that void within him.

'Sorry, son.' He whispered and shook his head apologetically. 'Maybe another time, huh?'

He bent down to draw the thin cover up over him before he went back to bed. Only after pausing to look back over and check that his boy was sleeping peacefully when he really was only looking for any excuse not to return to his own lonely bed.

But no reason was forthcoming, however.

'Lyin' there jus' like a little innocent angel.' Will whispered to himself in awe and with a huge wrench of effort, managed to tear his eyes away.

'You can look but you can't touch.' He hissed at himself viciously in disgust as he went out, clenching his fists while his balls felt like they were full of liquid lead. He shuddered when he recalled how close he came to ….came to...came to what exactly?

But he stopped his thoughts right there, unable to follow them to their inevitable and highly disturbing conclusion.

Fuck...'What's that boy 'o' mine done to me?

However, when he finally made it back into in his own room, he refused to satisfy his urges and didn't touch himself. Not once. It was pure torture – like he was punishing himself for having such impure and disgusting thoughts about his own flesh and blood.

He tried to sleep but lay there for over an hour, just staring up at the ceiling and unable to doze off. He considered going downstairs and drinking the rest of that half bottle of whiskey – right then it was sorely tempting but he knew that would send him off and he would still wake up at dawn like he normally did.

No matter how much he drank the night before.

Finally he gave in and got up to go back into Daryl's room, telling himself that he only wanted to check up on him again. Which he'd done virtually every night since Mike, even though he knew deep down that that boy-fucker had been dealt with.

He opened the door to Daryl's bedroom slowly so not to disturb him and peeking his head round, he put a hand to his mouth to smother a gasp.

Thankfully, his fears were unfounded – his son was lying there peacefully unmolested and safely tucked up in bed just as Will knew he would be.

But was he safe from a father lusting after him in exactly the same way – more or less - that his so called best friend had done?

That thought made his blood freeze in his veins, causing Will to hesitate briefly, even if he did gaze down at his son's perfectly rounded and shapely bare buttocks again.

Because they were exposed once more. He shook his head. To him it was like Daryl was taunting him by waving a red flag like that right under his nose.

However, before going further into the room, Will stopped to listen to the sounds of the house apart from the creaking in the eaves. He was relieved to discover that apparently there was no fiercely protective big brother around - no one who could stop him. And this fact did nothing to quell his desire but instead only inflamed it.

But he had to make sure that they really were alone first, Merle could easily have slipped past him when Will was in his cups. Still, the father knew what he had to do to ease his own mind,so, with a sigh of irritation, he left the room to check whether Merle was indeed safely out of the way. 

He just couldn't take the risk of him finding out that his Daddy had feelings for his brother that went beyond natural fatherly affection. Because it would be just like him to spoil everything, he thought bitterly as he padded silently across the landing and poked his head around Merle's room. His father strained his ears for any sound of him sleeping – snoring like a freight-train more like - in the shadowy darkness. Meanwhile, he searched with his eyes for any sign of his sleeping form on the bed.

It was empty.

Silence.

Will breathed a deep sigh of relief because he now had a green light to proceed without worrying about being disturbed.

So, with a coil of excitement slowly rising in his belly, Will returned to other son's room but didn't enter straightaway. Instead, he hovered outside awhile to listen to his slow breathing.

Still sleeping peacefully where he'd left him and with any luck - no more bad dreams tonight, then. So, he should leave sincehe wasn't needed. Put a stop to what ever this was before it had a chance to start.

He hadn't laid a hand on him - other than his lips that was. He hadn't hurt him – Daryl wasn't even aware of anything he'd done!

That thought helped to calm him, so he dared to switch the light on in the hallway. Daryl was usually a heavy sleeper and Will didn't worry about him waking up but now he could see him more clearly - his face mainly - now that the lights in the hallway was on. Will had left the door open now he had no fear of Merle catching him in the act.

Will turned back to the matter at hand. Those rounded, angelic cheeks were still rosy when usually Daryl was pale –far too pale. Actually, he looked like he was freezing – at some point in the five minutes he was gone to check on Merle, Daryl had kicked off the top blanket. So without thinking that it was summer and that Daryl most likely didn't need it, Will pulled it back over him again and mercifully covered up most of the temptation with it.

'What the hell was I thinkin' just now?' He whispered, wondering quietly aloud. 'I would never...' He pulled the cover up to his chin, but he stopped dead when his fingers accidently fluttered against the corner of Daryl's mouth. He was left standing mesmerized as his eyes fixed on them. That sensual, full mouth that was so much like his Mama's – Will was simply spellbound by it. Imagining what that mouth could do...What it had been forced to do already...He cut that thought off in a hurry. Knew he should turn away and leave – deal with it by himself like a man.

But he just simply couldn't make himself go.

Then it came to him with a shock that his hand was already down his pants and he couldn't even recall sliding it down there.

His conscience screamed at him to leave. Not to involve Daryl in any way in his sick problem, most importantly not rob him of more of his innocence than Mike already had. But his legs refused to obey him, apparently he had no control over his own body anymore. Still, incredibly, sense won out in the end and he guiltily removed his hand from his groin as he took a step backwards. Fearing that if he could go this far, to stare at his son's sleeping form while jerking off, it wouldn't take much to cross that final line and do something that he could never, ever take back.

On some level, he was proud of himself for listening to reason where there was none really to begin with. At the same time, he was still pissed at his son for not appreciating how much he struggled with it each day. Especially when he was still being rewarded for his self-control and patience with the occasional look of fear.

His son still didn't fully trust him – still thought he was going to get hurt and his father wasn't surprised, not really. Even a man like Will Dixon wasn't insensitive enough to not grasp that years of pain and terror didn't just go away in a mere few months and that he couldn't really blame the boy for being wary of him. Nevertheless, he still felt that he was owed some kind of gratitude, that the boy acknowledge that he really had tried to change and become a better father to him.

Didn't Daryl owe him something after that?

He'd felt the change in his body once Daryl had returned from the trip. When he'd been relaxed before, he was now tense all over.

'Daryl...' He whispered softly, careful not to wake the sleeping boy, he needed his rest after all the excitement of the field-trip. His hand fiddled with the frayed corner of the extra blanket he'd placed over him earlier. Meanwhile, he noticed that Daryl had snuggled himself up in it as he leaned in closer.

'Daryl...son...' He buried his face in his hair then, revelling in its softness, - its smell. Daryl didn't even smell like a boy – he always smelled like the wild flowers he loved. Another reason Merle always teased him – occasionally exaggeratedly drawling his name out and mockingly changing it into Darlena.

Daryl muttered in his sleep, sounding annoyed but still didn't stir and Will knew that nothing short of the end of the world could wake that boy up.

He straightened up at that and stroked back the stray strands from his boy's face. Daryl's was lying on his side with his mouth slightly open, completely relaxed.

'Never gonna hurt my sweet boy.' His father whispered to him. At that, Daryl did move and his eyes fluttered open.

Will drew back in shock, afraid he'd heard what he'd just said.

Just as he feared, he had heard every word. 'Not hurt me - what do you mean, dad?' He asked timidly and when he saw Will frown at him, the fear on his face grew and he instinctively recoiled from his father before he sat up abruptly.

Will cursed himself for his own stupidity and rashness in his head because now his son was immediately wide-awake.

'Dad, what's wrong? What did I do?'

Will cursed himself because he immediately thought he was in trouble, did he really have that little control over his facial expressions? Of course, Daryl thought he was to blame and no doubt that he was going to get punished after all. Because what other explanation could there be for his father being in his room?

Will shook his head at him, but didn't say anything. Daryl looked down then, resigned to his fate and probably thinking Will was considering how best to inflict pain even as his fingers tilted his surprised son's chin up.

'Sh...sh...' Will brushed his hair back. 'It's OK. Nothing's wrong, you didn't do nothin', son. Didn't mean to wake ya - jus' checkin' up on ya.'

Daryl visibly calmed down after seeing his father wasn't angry. 'I'm OK, Dad. Ya don't need to worry about me.' Then he leaned forward and put his arms around Will who smiling, hugged him to his chest.

Still my sweet, innocent boy. Ain't ever gonna hurt ya like he tried to.' He murmured into his son's hair.

His son suddenly pulled away to look up at him in fearful confusion. 'What?'

'Forget it, son.'

'No, Dad. What did you mean?'

Will floundered for a way to get out of this. 'It's just that sometimes I'm afraid you think all adult men are like that piece of crap. I just want to make you see I'm not.'

Daryl stared at him in confusion before he burst out laughing, taking Will completely by surprise. He hadn't even reacted to the indirect Mike-reference. Or the fact that Will had suggested it was possible for a father to have those feelings for his own children either.

Will looked at his son with new eyes then, as if seeing him for the first time. Especially when his son's typically sweet and innocent expression suddenly disappeared, to be replaced with a more adult cynical hardness that he didn't recognize on him.

It didn't help when he climbed into Will's lap, rubbing his nose with his father's who was dumbfounded. Will didn't know how to react to this new, unfamiliar and bold version of his son. 

He bit his lip in disbelief when Daryl breathed out, 'Not so innocent,' in his ear. He narrowed his eyes and looked sharply back at him while Daryl smirked.  
Where had his son gone? Looked like he'd been suddenly replaced with his streetwise and sexually experienced other son – Merle.

Since his father was still too surprised to reply, Daryl continued. 'I've seen the way ya been lookin' at me, Dad.' He stressed the last word with mocking sarcasm. 'I know what ya want.'

'Daryl...what ya gettin' at, son?' Will decided to play innocent, Daryl couldn't really be suggesting what he seemed to be, could he? He deliberately made his face go blank and unreadable and his eyes along with it.

'Dad...it's OK. I know. I know you've been fighting it. But you don't need to worry. 'Cos me and Merle already been practisin', if ya know what I mean...' Daryl uncharacteristically sneered and licked his lips provocatively and Will found that he once again couldn't look away from that sensual mouth so full of sinful promise.

As if Daryl had read his mind, he added, 'Says I'm real good with my mouth too.' His son's eyes glittered mischievously when he said that, making Will clench his jaws together as he was overcome with rage and maybe – some other emotion - was it jealousy? Never mind how far-fetched it all sounded.

He clenched his fists at his sides for good measure, not really knowing how to calm himself down but he managed to after taking a few deep breaths. Had Merle really done to his little brother what Daryl was suggesting?

He cleared his throat and looked down at Daryl - trying to catch some other emotion in those alert eyes like fear or hurt.

But there was nothing as far as Will could see. 

'Do ya mean to tell me... Merle's been ...been touchin' ya, son?' Will tried to keep his voice calm and be delicate otherwise he knew that his skittish youngest son would clam up, neither of those things came naturally to Will or Merle, but they sure did to Daryl. Even though the graphic images that suddenly sprung into his head made him want to go and get his shotgun and wait for Merle with it until he got back, it wouldn't do Daryl any good if he showed his anger in front of him. Then again, did it have something to do with Mike? That pervert was long gone and posed no threat but that didn't mean that the after-effects of what he'd done were erased.

He couldn't help but to dwell on wondering just how far Merle had gone with his payback. For all Will knew, he had just given him a free pass and told him to never show his face in the village again, if he valued his life. Will furiously recalled how shifty Merle had looked when they'd discussed what he'd done with Mike and the father recalled how he never - not once had got a straight answer from him about how he'd dealt with that piece of shit.

Will couldn't believe it. Sure, his eldest was a junkie, a drunk, a womanizer and all-round waste of space. But pervert? Could he really have done to him what Daryl was saying? Especially when he saw how badly Mike's assault had affected him?

How could he?

So he sighed instead, tilting his son's chin up for a second time because Daryl had been looking shamefacedly down at the floor – his cocky attitude at odds with his cowed body- language.

'What did he do?'' He asked softly, the sense of deja-vu nearly overwhelming him as he stroked his hair gently. 'Did he hurtyou?'

That question made Daryl lose the innocent facial expression he previously had assumed, instead he tilted up his chin almost defiantly as he straightened his back. 'Didn't do nothin' I didn't want.' Daryl fired back defensively and meeting his eyes fearlessly now. 'Actually, it was me who made the first move on him.'

Now it was Will's turn to look down. Not at the floor but at his son's narrow bare chest and his taunt stomach. Even the possibility that Merle had touched his little brother in that way made him fume with anger and he felt his rage growing at his sick bastard of a son who had corrupted the other. Daryl desperately tried to calm him down by smiling but not surprisingly, with little success.

With an unsteady voice he couldn't help blurting out, 'I'm gonna fuckin' kill him...the sick bastard!.'

Daryl laid a hand on his arm, all wide-eyed innocence again. But something about his expression seemed contrived to his father. Like Daryl was playacting – playing a role. Like a whore.

Did he put on this act with Merle? Will shivered at the thought – told himself it was revulsion but he admitted that his reaction was mixed with something else. Was it lust? At this moment, his son's mere touch felt like it was burning his skin and he frowned down at his hand. Worse – the fiery glowing feeling was now spreading throughout his whole body, and Daryl was sitting in his lap. Now he was obviously old enough and not so innocent to not put two and two together if he felt something growing hard against him. It had happened once before after all, and now Will knew he wouldn't get away with his - 'it's something I can't always control, don't mean nothing by it' - explanation he'd given him a second time.  
Not under these circumstances and not after Mike.

'I won't let Merle hurt ya, ever again. He's gonna get what's comin' to him for corruptin' ya, mark my words... That boy'll get his."

Somehow he managed to keep the murderous fury he felt towards the sick brother molesting son-of-a-bitch out of his voice. Or most of it at least but not enough for Daryl to not react.

'No, please don't hurt him, please don't, Dad. Told ya, I started it! He didn't even want to at first but I made him!'

'You made him?' Will couldn't stop his voice from continuing rising in volume. 'You're fuckin' kiddin' me!'

Daryl let out a whimper and drew back in alarm.

'I'm not blaming you.' He said at Daryl's stricken expression in a calmer tone. 'Just don't lie to me to protect ya big brother, is all.

'I'm not! It's all true!'

'Right. Why don't you tell me how long it took for him to give in to you? Not long, I bet!'

Instead of replying, Daryl sighed; ''He said we shouldn't...that it weren't right...That it would kill you if you found out...'

'Too right! What you boys have done…'

'I'm...we're sorry, Dad. Please don't be angry with him.'

Will humpfed and gently pushed his son back by his chest to get a better look at him. He was determined to have the truth and forced himself to speak softly. Like everything about this didn't make him want to retch, not to mention saw his older son's dick off as slowly as possible, "You can't be serious. You're tellin' me, that you started it with him? Ya expect me to believe that shit?"

Will's voice had started to rise again, no matter how he tried to hold back his fury and by then, and something about Daryl's body-language changed if only for a couple of seconds.

'It's true. I… I… Dad…' Daryl stammered, upturning his face. Will could see the tears dancing in his eyes, ready to fall. Making Will wanting to give comfort instead of thrashing the pussy out of him like he would have done mere months ago.

'Now, now.' He patted his back reassuringly. 'This is all Mike's doin'...Must be because of what he did...But Merle should have known that and not taken advantage of you!'

'I told you he didn't!' Daryl's eyes flashed in equal vehemence to match his father's fury when it came to defending his scumbag brother.

'Sh...' Will realized then what most of his anger at Daryl's hero – his scumbag brother - managed to achieve and changed tactic. He did his best to soothe him instead as he gently stroked his youngest's hair back off his face, then kissed him chastely on the forehead, while Daryl leaned into him and closed his eyes as if in relief.

'It's OK, Daryl. I ain't angry with you, son. I'm pissed at your brother, is all. He should know better. You're just confused, I know ya didn't really want it. Ya head's all over the place, poor boy.' He soothed and heard himself talking to him in that voice, reverting to babying him again. How could he have ever hurt him?

But suddenly Daryl pulled back and Will saw a hungry determination momentarily flash in his eyes before he kissed Will full on the mouth! Despite the fact that he'd been dreaming of this moment – no, longing for it, Will admitted reluctantly to himself, he froze. He immediately pushed Daryl off of his lap after feeling himself respond because he wouldn't allow himself to step over that line.

Yet the little devil only smiled at him. That did it for Will as he drew back his hand and backhanded Daryl heavily across the face. 'Don't ya dare!' He hissed at him. His son didn't even seem shocked. His eyes didn't tear up, he didn't even rub his rapidly reddening cheek like he usually did whenever Will lost it with him in the past.

Unintimidated and undeterred, Daryl smirked at him knowingly as he stood there between his splayed legs like he could see into his soul and knew that his father was struggling with himself not to kiss him right back. Because this is what Will had wanted all along, what he'd dreamt about, fantasized about – and this time his son was willing.

In fact, Daryl got back into his lap and reached forward to try his luck again. He pressed his lips to Will's now open ones but this time he also brazenly forced his tongue into his father's mouth.

Will finally responded, he simply couldn't help himself. It was all too much. Daryl was irresistible, especially when everything about him and his actions were so conflicted. Like his tongue, at times he used it to kiss his father with easy confidence, other times his kiss was tentative like he wasn't sure about what he was doing. This bold versus shy Daryl that sometimes shone through made Will beyond confused, of course by then, he wasn't really capable of conscious thought.

Will twined his hands in his son's hair and tugged at it gently as he deepened the kiss. It all felt so good that he forced away the alarm bells screaming in his head -accusing him of being a sick and twisted pervert, when he'd had Mike punished brutally for doing this very thing. But then Daryl hadn't been willing with him not like he was right now. Bastard had been forcing himself on him that was a different thing entirely and his son had been terrified and crying.

He couldn't be further from that now. In fact, it seemed that all that time spent holding Daryl on the sofa and soothing him, making him feel safe was paying off a hundredfold because now his son was looking up at him with a look of eager anticipation. In Will's warped mind to him, it seemed as though Daryl wanted Will as badly as he wanted him. The fact that Daryl trusted him enough not to hurt him, made him breathe a little easier.

Will knew that he was so turned on by this he wouldn't be able to deny his son a thing. Not to mention, deny himself when opportunity knocked on his door like this.

Daryl moved his hips slightly then, rubbing up against Will's increasingly hardening dick, forcing him to stifle a moan. 'Gonna teach me about the birds and the bees, Dad?' He smirked at his father when they stopped to get some air. 'Bit late for that, don't ya think?'

Will didn't have words or the breath to reply.

'Yeah, Dad. Merle taught me but I bet ya are even better.'

"How far did he go with ya, huh?"

'We done everythin',' Daryl smirked arrogantly, challenging his father to comment. 'I mean, pretty much everything there is to sex. You won't hurt me, don't worry.'

Will stroked his cheek then and for a second the anger he felt was replaced with sadness, Merle must have taken advantage of him. Manipulated him somehow.

'That piece of shit….' He couldn't help but mutter at his absent son, before giving his youngest his full attention. "You sure about this?' Giving him one last chance to back out.

Daryl nodded and Will could easily see the excitement rising in his son's eyes. But still he hesitated, held back. He remembered thinking how strange that he was taking time to reconsider when this had been all he'd wanted for so long.

Everything he wanted had fallen straight into his lap -literally - and it couldn't get better than this. Having Daryl coming onto him first. It probably all had to do with him being used to suppressing his desires and just when he was about to give in to them – something always stopping him. But a little more of Daryl deliberately grounding himself against his crotch, while he playfully slid one hand up under his father's shirt or even both at the same time, Will didn't care about anything else.

Not true. He let out another moan of pleasure and only had eyes for his son on his lap who seemed to be enjoying himself as well as the reaction he was getting out of his father.

'Last chance to back out, son. 'Cos once I start, I ain't gonna stop. Even if ya cry and beg me to like a little bitch.' Will's snapped.

Daryl rolled his eyes at this and shrugged his shoulders in impatience. Not in the least put off by his father's harsh and unromantic language. 'I bet if I cry too much and whimper in just the wrong way, you will. Merle always does – 'cos he thinks he's hurtin' me.' He scoffed. 'As if.'

His son snickered in that disdainful way that only teenage boys can. 'But you're something else, huh, Dad. Ya older and more experienced...'

Will wasn't sure about that but then Daryl smirked up at him as he let his words drift away, full of dark, secret meaning while he circled his father's nipple with his forefinger under the shirt, making Will gasp. But he didn't push him away.

Will shook his head, didn't yet know what to think about what he and Merle had done together. If it was true, Will was at least glad that Merle hadn't been unnecessarily rough or even sadistic with him. God knows, Will knew that his older son had a cruel streak in him, just like his old man but he should have known that he would never be less than tender and considerate with his baby brother. He'd always had a soft spot for Daryl after all.

Will knew Daryl hadn't really wanted Merle to do those things to him, he couldn't have – not really. However, in any case whatever they had done with one another, Merle had obviously tried to make sure that Daryl was comfortable with everything they did, Daryl's lack of fear made this obvious and he didn't seem to be lying about that part. Besides, the boy was always easy to read, he was to Will, at least.

Will seriously doubted Merle would knowingly hurt Daryl, he loved him too much but the question remained how had all of this affected him psychologically? First Mike, then incest with his brother. He was willing to bet his life that Merle had never thought about the reasons why Daryl had come on to him in the first place.

No, Merle never considered the consequences, just took what he was offered. Never considered the possibility that maybe Daryl was just a traumatized teenage boy trying to claw back some of the control and dignity that had been so brutally wrenched from him.

Had that sick fuck put ideas into both their heads – starting this whole thing off when he attacked Daryl in the first place? What about himself? He'd had these feelings for Daryl even before the rape.

'Hey, don't disappear on me, dad.' Daryl waved his hand in front of his face.

He felt his face grow hotter as he blushed, something he hadn't done since he was Daryl's age and all it took was for Daryl to call him 'Dad' Well, that combined with what they were doing right that moment. He'd been so lost in his thoughts and had to remind himself that what was done, was done and that he wasn't actually doing anything wrong after all. Daryl wanted this, no one was getting forced here. Besides, Merle had broken him in already, if he was to believe him.

'Right. Wait there and don't move.' He ordered his son. 'Jus' gotta go and get something...' He heard Daryl's breathing become ragged but from excitement rather than fear and panic that usually was the cause. The difference was miniscule, but Will heard it.

When he came back shortly after, he was rewarded with the sight of his son already stripped of his pyjamas which almost put to rest any stabs of conscience on his part. Daryl was waiting there shamelessly naked with no hint of his characteristic shyness. It was all Will could do as he stifled a groan at the sight not to go and take his son right there on the bed and to hell with the foreplay.

But he couldn't do that – not to Daryl. He was going to draw things out by going over him until he was begging for it.

'Ain't shy, are ya?' He marveled at the change in his normally timid son, looking at him admiringly.

Daryl shrugged and smirked in reply. Was it just his imagination or had Daryl's lips got redder, more full? The little brat had probably been biting them as he waited for Will to come back, knowing exactly what kind of an effect that would have on his father.

'I'll make it all go away, son.' He took a seat on the bed, pushing Daryl so that he ended up on his back, causing him to breathe a little faster in excitement while Will's fingers itched to touch him. But he enjoyed watching his son squirm, and he made no move to touch him. Will wanted to show him that he was no brutish Mike.

'That's it…I'll show you how good it can be. Make you forget all about perverted scumbags like Mike.' He managed to stop himself with a massive effort just in time before he added 'and Merle' without thinking.

Daryl immediately tensed up under his hands and Will cursed himself for bringing up Mike at a delicate point like this when his son was offering him everything he'd ever wanted on a silver platter.

'Dad...Look, don't worry about me. I want this.' He protested when Will still kept from touching him. 'You can touch me, I'll let you.'

'Wait a minute, son. Ya think I'm jus' gonna jump right on top of ya and grab ya jus' like that?'

'No.' Daryl muttered under his breath, 'But I kinda wish you would.'

Will stared at him in disbelief. Like he was a stranger he didn't know. In a way, this new sexually experienced and flirtatious version of his son was turning him on.

'These things take time, son, if ya want them done right.' He explained with more patience than he actually felt.

True to his word, Will took his sweet time causing his son to grow more impatient than ever, even more obvious when he pondered where to touch first because he knew he would get more of a positive reaction if he did it in the right place. He had always enjoyed building up the anticipation like that.

To begin with, Will pecked his lips before kissing his way softly down his throat causing Daryl to arch his back and whimper in pleasure. He ran his hand gently through his hair like he'd done a thousand times before as his father, but now he kissed him down the long column of his throat again but this time adding a little more teeth to graze his skin slightly. Daryl gripped the bedclothes as he moaned out loud at the sensations. Will, for his part, ignored the powerful effect that single sound had on him and just took a step back to admire the effects of his work.

'Please, Dad...Don't stop.' He gasped.

'Don't tell me what to do.' He snapped and flipped Daryl face down without warning before he pulled his hair back to almost bite through the skin, leaving a massive hickey there. He didn't stop to think that other people might see that mark on ownership on him including his overbearing big brother.

'You...are...a...very...bad...little...boy', he punctuated his sentence with a slap to each buttock – hard enough to leave a red mark. But Daryl didn't mind – he was gasping in pleasure, not in pain – Will was sure of it as he wantonly ground himself against the top of the bed right in front of his father, desperately trying to get some friction.

'You really should be punished for the way you're behaving. Such a naughty boy.'

Daryl whimpered at that and Will softened.

'Sh...' Will stroked his cheek. 'What ya doin' to your Dad, eh?'

Daryl raised his head up and looked back levelly at him, still fearless and now eager with expectation. 'Yes.' He whispered to the question his father never asked and nodded. 'Yes, Dad. I want it.'

Will nodded and smirked arrogantly as he changed tactics because the last linger of doubt was completely gone now. He grew gentle as he ransacked his mind to remember where Daryl liked being stroked lightly with the tips of his fingers when he was little. He smiled as a memory came to him – he had liked him stroking his wrists lightly up to the elbows for sure. But he had particularly liked it if you did the same to his neck and shoulders.

He gripped his son firmly to stop him from moving and also to keep him facing forward as he kissed his way down his jaw to finally reach Daryl's neck where he took turns in kissing and nibbling at it. He grinned smugly against that soft skin because just like he expected, all this made him moan and arch his back in pleasure even more loudly than before. 'Ya like that, boy?' He crooned in his ear while Daryl eagerly nodded.

'Good 'cos it's too late to stop now.' There was a hint of the old menace in his voice and Daryl shivered despite himself until Will smoothed his hair reassuringly.

'I've got another very special birthday present for ya, son.' He said as he opened the jar of lube. Daryl tried to get up on his elbows to try and swivel round to look at what he was doing when he heard the noise.

A sharp intake of breath from Daryl caused Will to frown, but that was all it took. Will could've kicked himself for not realizing it sooner - he should have predicted this. Because Daryl had been slick with the stuff when Mike had tried to have his way with him – how could he forget?

'Daryl… You want to see what I'm doing? Make you feel better, that it?'

Will sighed in relief when he watched his son nod. 'Well, turn around, then.

'We need to do this, otherwise it'll hurt. A lot. You don't mean Merle's been doing whatever the fuck he's been doing without preparing you properly first?'

'I don't mind...He always has me lie on my back. Says he wants to look at my face while we...and he teases me for being girly. Like that's any better? Isn't it girly wanting to look at my face?'

Will had to stifle a laugh at the disdainful way Daryl protested at his brother's treatment of him but continued to shake his head as if in disgust instead:

'Get back down there.' He commanded him harshly and pushed him roughly back down onto the bed, determined to not let him move one inch. Alternating gentle with rough drove most women crazy because they never knew what to expect from moment to moment and he was gratified to see that this approach also seemed to work on Daryl.

'You'll like it, I promise. After all, I know you. I know what you like.' He crooned seductively into his son's ear, all the time intently listening for the door banging, signaling Merle's return. He prayed that they wouldn't be disturbed because they obviously would have to stop if he came back from his night out.

'I won't hurt you.' Will dipped his fingers in the lube, then gently encouraged his son to relax. He marveled at the sight before him, tenderly caressing as much of his skin as he could, murmuring 'Beautiful,' as he went, falling into a daze as he did so.

Like he was on autopilot, Will found he'd carefully inserted one of his fingers into Daryl before he was aware of it. He paused, frowning. 'That OK, son? Don't hurt, does it?'

Daryl didn't reply in words, but settled on shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Will wasn't really sure if he was doing it right. Hadn't ever been with another man before – never wanted to. In fact, the thought of it made his stomach turn and he hated those fags with a passion. They didn't deserve to live – they were just above pond life one step above Mike, in his opinion and he wasn't above helping his buddies keep their village free of that filth whenever they passed through – parading themselves shamelessly and hoping to get lucky with decent, straight folk. Wreaking havoc wherever they went by breaking up families as they spread their plague. But Daryl was different. Will had to make sure he did this right, no matter how long it took, his son had been hurt and hurt badly, therefore he was still vulnerable and fragile.

All of this made him even more dead set on not hurting him, therefore he made each of his moves slow and careful, sounding him out by his responses.

His son wasn't fully grown yet and he felt so tight around that single finger that Will doubted he would fit inside at all. But then Merle already had, if he were to believe Daryl.

'Ready for another?' He asked after a while.

'Yeah.' His son panted, writhing on the bed. 'It's OK. It don't hurt - it – it feels really good and I'll tell ya if it does– keep goin'.'

Will did as he was told and he stared down in disbelief as his two fingers disappeared into his son. Knowing Daryl needed this, he kept on stretching him even though he was ready to burst from want. 'Ready for me, boy?'

'Yes.' He raised his head again, nodding. His lost, little boy voice nearly driving his father crazy. More so because he had a feeling that Daryl wasn't acting now and the father-son dynamic with the power he had over him, just added to his desire. Will found that he had to use all of his dwindling self-control to take things slowly, not to rush and cause any damage to his son.

'All right then, lie on your side with your back towards me. I wanna hold ya.'

Daryl turned around to look at him then, a smile on his face and did as he was told.

He put one arm under his son, to grip him by one hip as he hugged him tight to his chest with the other. He hissed into Daryl's ear as he started to enter him slowly, stopping midway when he heard his son gasp. 'Does it hurt?'

Daryl bravely shook his head, determined not to make a sound. 'Not much.' But he was wincing and gritting his teeth.

'There's my brave, strong boy.' Will whispered proudly. 'Daddy's sweet Daryl.'

Will's hand curled around Daryl's hardness and he responded by moaning and gripping his pillow. Will could tell that the boy had relaxed a little more, he didn't need to see his face for that, meaning that the pain was almost past. He took it as a green light to go in deeper. Yet he was careful to hold back as much as he could at first. But then Daryl started to move against him, taking Will by surprise for the tenth time that night.

"Don't hold back, dad."

Will was taken aback. 'Ya sure?'

'Yeah. Do it like Merle does.'

Will choked when he heard him say that name and nearly pulled out of him at once at the image of Daryl and Merle together. He rewarded his eldest son with murderous thoughts for the hundredth time that evening, even as he was starting to lose all control and sense of right and wrong in the pleasure of finally being way too close with his youngest.

He let out a deep sigh in between the moans of bliss that were mixed with Daryl's more muffled noises. 'OK, son. And how does Merle do it?" He swallowed his anger – could hardly believe that he was asking such a question.

Daryl adoringly ducked his head before he spoke as if unsure if he should answer or not. 'Hard."

Will bit the insides of his cheeks as he felt the need to vent his anger. "Whatever ya want.' Will increased the pace without holding back, making himself crazy too. Merle wasn't here, but Daryl was, and for a while he paid for the anger that was directed at his brother. But he didn't complain about it, quite the opposite in fact. He smiled when his son's moans and gasps got louder as he finally let himself go with abandon.

Will couldn't help but regret that he'd speeded up the process, he didn't want it to ever end. He felt like he was going to reach his climax soon, he knew he could have dragged it out longer. He was good at that – with women any way. But that skill apparently didn't apply when it came to his own son.

Suddenly, memories of his wife came to mind and he felt deeply ashamed at himself and what he was doing. Because what would she say and think if she could see them together now? He shook his head to clear it all away. He would be damned if he let his guilty conscience ruin this special moment, Daryl had wanted this as well and Will had given him numerous chances to back out. Will decided that he could dwell on the rights and the wrongs of it later.

He buried his face in his son's hair to breathe in his sweet smell to bring himself back to the here and now. Worked like a charm. 'Hold on, son.' He panted between groans. 'Not long now. I'm nearly finished.' He squeezed him to him reassuringly.

Daryl only whined at this and was soon shuddering in his arms as he came, squeezing even tighter around Will, who followed him over the edge with a cry. It all seemed to be never-ending as he whispered into his son's ear how much he meant to him, how beautiful he was and how proud he was of him as he emptied himself into that warmth. Sadly it was too soon over and Will immediately slid out of him and turned Daryl around so that they were facing each other.

'Dad...' Daryl looked up at him with those big, blue eyes as they'd both managed to get their breath back. Big baby blue eyes that shouldn't have been so innocent considering what they'd just done.

Will felt his heart shatter quietly in his chest.

He took the side of his son's jaw with one hand and traced its outline gently with his thumb. When he felt the feathery light stubble growing there, he realized with a jolt that Daryl was growing up. But this knowledge made him feel worse rather than better.

'No need to tell anyone 'bout this, huh, son?'

Daryl snuggled closer and sighed in contentment. 'You think I'm a moron? Of course I won't. But what ya gonna do about Merle?'

'What do you want me to do about Merle?'

'Nothin'. I told ya it ain't like what ya think...He didn't make me do nothin'...He would never hurt me.' Then he sniggered. 'Well, not much. When I want him to, he does.' He continued to giggle like what he just said wasn't a big deal, he might as well could've been talking about the weather.

'What?' Will was sickened. His sweet son liked pain? 'We'll see about that.'

He decided he would deal with Merle later as he put his arm about Daryl and drew them back down onto the bed. He had a feeling the boy needed some quiet, and not for Will to lash out, he was naturally reluctant for his father to confront his older brother. Typical Daryl. He just didn't want to see Merle get in trouble. Why else would he get upset and protect him like he did?

Will sighed and let angry thoughts of Merle fade away in his mind as he refused to let him spoil things further. Besides, he was just happy to lay like this and cradle Daryl to his chest.

So there they were, father and son lay there shamelessly naked and neither one caring. Both of them were growing sleepy when Will languidly began to stroke his son's arm, tracing patterns across the smooth skin's surface. He knew that this relaxed him and would lull him to sleep. Daryl let out another long sigh of contentment in response and laid his head on his father's bare chest. Will felt his heart swelling there at the trusting way his boy cuddled with him despite everything.

They'd been so intent on the forbidden pleasure and the sweet afterwards that they'd forgotten to keep an ear out for the door banging. They didn't even hear it.

But what they did hear next was the heavy work-boots thundering up the stairs. Merle was always loud, never thought about other people and Will started to pull the cover up over them in panic. But it was too late – Merle saw everything.

'Wha...what the fuck?' He stared at them with eyes as big as saucers and not from drugs this time. His naked father was with his naked baby brother lying on the bed together.

Will immediately released Daryl who went bright red, cringed closer to their father as if for protection as he failed to meet his big brother's horrified and curiously at the same time, rage-filled eyes.

Will found himself speechless, his own fury at Merle for what he'd apparently done with Daryl had also disappeared.

Daryl started to gabble a hasty explanation as Merle stormed over to the bed, completely ignoring him. Merle's eyes narrowed in hatred and rage as he eyeballed his father. 'You sick fuck...What did you do to him?' he started to snarl at their father, raised his fist and...

'No!' Will woke up with a loud yell, his heart thundering in his chest and a sense of falling. It had been one of those dreams where your heart skips a beat and wakes you up with a start.

He was temporarily disorientated and patted the bed around him, hoping against hope that it was empty except for him. Then, coming slowly full awake, he looked around and recognized the room as his own bedroom. It suddenly came to him that it must've ended up with him drinking the whole bottle before going to bed and he couldn't deny it, the dream had been wonderful where nothing mattered besides him and Daryl. It had been very pleasant, putting it mildly until the end and at the same time he felt a huge sense of relief that that was all it was, just a dream.

A dream he wished could turn into reality.

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. It had been a very detailed one in which he'd gone all the way with his 14 year old after all. His sick mind had even portrayed Daryl as willingly initiating it after Merle had messed with him.

Still, dreams never hurt anybody.

Then the relief vanished abruptly and his mouth dried up when he noticed the slight weight on the mattress next to him because somehow his groping hands had missed it. He wasn't alone in bed! It wasn't some random broad who'd caught his eye at Marty's either. Not someone he'd got drunk and had a one-night stand with (he'd done that very occasionally), it was his youngest son who was curled up beside him and it nearly caused him to fall off the bed in surprise and horror.

He sat up, suddenly breathing hard. He was genuinely surprised because Daryl hadn't done something like this in what, 8 years? He was absolutely horrified too because he couldn't be sure when exactly his son had appeared. Will couldn't possibly know how these dreams made him behave while he was a sleep. Did he talk? Did he move at all? God forbid, if he'd let a moan slip right before saying his son's name.

Nevertheless, he pushed these pointless worries aside relatively easily as he got back under the covers. The growing brightness of the approaching dawn blasted through the window without blinds. Will was an early riser, he'd never cared much for them in his bedroom, now he was thankful for that because it lit up the room enough for him to be able to see Daryl's face. He reached out and stroked his son's cheek tenderly, silently wondering why the boy had felt the need to be close to him. Probably another nightmare about that sack of shit.

He frowned at that thought and started brushing Daryl's hair with his fingers, certain that he was deep enough asleep that he wouldn't wake up.

He couldn't help but to revert back to thinking about the dream. A part of him wanted to laugh in disbelief over how his mind had twisted everything like that, even though it wasn't funny. Because, how did the part with Merle and Daryl fit in? The more rational part of him quickly provided him with an answer. Probably because Merle was so damn protective. Sometimes he overdid it, and Will always knew when he had by the atmosphere in the house before it was usually quickly resolved. Neither of them could stay angry with the other for long. When he was younger, Daryl had just been happy that Merle stuck up for him sometimes but now he was old enough to start to feel embarrassed and found his big brother's interference too much.

Will continued to look at his son, wondering why Merle wasn't his first port of call. He smiled when the answer came to his mind then, clear as a bell. Daryl probably felt ashamed about the fact that he didn't want to sleep alone, and he was simply too proud to go to his big brother. Also, he didn't want to take the chance of rejection and being mocked because Merle was temperamental. You didn't always know what you were going to get with him. Either he was going to take Daryl in, or he was going to slam the door in his face and scold him for being a scared little pussy, after all, enough time had passed since Mike that Merle had gone back to treating him like normal. That was as a condescending, sometimes teasing, nice but always protective – even now more so than ever – big brother did.

Will smiled in relief then, he hadn't done what he'd dreamt about – it was only a dream after all. Both of them being fully clothed proved that. His grin grew even wider when Daryl snuggled close of his own accord even in his slumber to the hand stroking his hair.


	25. 'Special'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're skipping a head roughly one year in time, Daryl's 15 and yeah, Daddy Dearest has reverted to his mean old self and we don't need to tell you what's been happening since the last chapter. Even worse – it's just him and Daryl now because Merle is away earning money. the result that they don't have any, making Will even more likely to blow his top. However, the icing on the cake is being hassled by his concerned math teacher who suspects Daryl is being abused. Poor Daryl! When will Merle get back?  
> ….  
> Remember: Kudos and comments are love - give it to us!

…   
Daryl   
   
He limped into the classroom, Fuck, he hated school, Daryl thought to himself. But one class was a little better than the rest and it was math because the best thing about that particular class was the teacher.  Even if there were vicious rumours lately about him and certain boys.  
He'd heard that if you were a boy under 16, Rogers would give you a good grade even if you had flunked his class all semester, as long as you were willing to do 'special favours' for him. Daryl knew most of it was malicious with no truth in it because he reckoned that the stories accusing Carl Rogers of being a perve were probably all made up by disgruntled students he'd failed. Daryl never did listen to gossip and he wasn't about to start now.  
He prided himself on being a bit of a loner – not one of the herd who couldn't make up their own mind, so he was going to give Rogers a chance. At least until he did something that proved him wrong. Especially since this particular teacher had tried to help him 'with his problems at home' even if his determination to 'always be there for him if he needed it' got on Daryl’s nerves.   
   
Anyway, most of the students in the class thought it was funny whenever Rogers moved on to Daryl for answers to his questions and downright hilarious when the teacher asked him to stay behind.    
Despite what was being said about him, Mr Carl Rogers was popular because he was a good teacher. One who took a genuine interest in his students and was able to make even math seem interesting.  
Well – most of the time.  
   
Today, there were more twitters as Daryl made his way slowly and painfully into the classroom. He was late again because his Dad was drunk already at 6.30 in the morning and had decided to make Daryl pay for his pissy morning temper. Never mind that Daryl kept trying to explain that the reason he'd been stuck in detention again was because he'd been late 3 times already that week and so Will should really let him go to school. But Daryl didn't have the courage to tell his father that it was all because of him.  
Take yesterday morning for example - the day had begun much like all the others with him opening the refrigerator and reaching inside for the eggs on the shelf to make a quick omelette before school. Unfortunately, Will stumbled into the kitchen just at that moment and screamed something incomprehensible before he slammed the fridge door shut without warning and nearly cut Daryl's hand in half. The look of shock and surprise with which his son answered him only enraged him further because then he’d grabbed Daryl by the throat and yelled in his face that he shouldn't waste what little food they had left. Especially when Merle was still away and money was tight. Daryl had asked (quite reasonably he thought) why did they have eggs in the first place if they weren't allowed to eat them before they went bad and had to be thrown out?  
He'd received a black eye for 'backchat'.  
'What do you need to eat for? I thought I told ya to get to school, you greedy little shit!' His dad had literally kicked him out the door causing him to nearly keel over on the ground. 'And don't be comin' back home late again otherwise you think what I just did was a picnic in comparison!'  
   
As a result, Daryl didn't even dare to touch the fridge today but was preparing to pour himself some cereal instead without milk (wasn't any to be had, anyway) before he found himself being assailed by blows on all sides. He instinctively tried to block, but his father had been relentless. This time, the old man didn't even give him a reason for the vicious punches he was aiming at his stomach. Needless to say, when he'd eventually been released, the walk to school had been painful and slow-going.   
   
Daryl's stomach was growling with hunger, despite the savage punishment it had taken. Even though he was feeling light-headed and wasn’t exactly concentrating, he didn't miss the concerned way Rogers glanced at him as he limped into the classroom. And it wasn't like he was alone either. Everyone stared and knew what had happened to him, try to hide it as he might.   
Great! He just knew the way this was going to go down. Rogers would ask him to stay behind where he'd pester him with questions about how things were at home.   
Honestly, Daryl didn't understand his teacher's surprised reaction acting like it was the first time each time he showed up beaten and bruised. His classmates on the other hand were pretty used to seeing him like that but even so, this time he could hear their shocked whispers clear as day all around him.  
   
Only Andrea had the decency not to add to them as she looked up at him with a sympathetic smile playing on her lips from where she sat quietly next to Shane. He could see them playing footsie under the desk and having started a shitstorm day already -  this pissed Daryl off more than it would have done normally. He hated pity most of all, but instead of ignoring her like he did the rest, he settled on giving her a bad boy smirk to convince her that he really was OK. However, when she smiled softly back at him with her forehead creasing softly in a worried frown, he could tell that it hadn't worked.  
   
She was still the only girl he liked in the class or in the whole damn shitty school in fact. Once, he'd even thought he'd had a chance with her a couple of years ago but then she'd quickly got back together with her douchebag jock boyfriend. Daryl had never understood why that was. As a friend (sort of,) he'd always wanted to warn her to be careful of Shane whose reputation for two-timing, even three-timing his girlfriends was common knowledge throughout the school.  
Yet something held him back. He would have expected even someone as arrogant as the Sheriff's son would have cleaned up his act after getting a second chance with a goddess like that but she either didn't know or didn't care. Anyway, if he said something, it would only look like he was trying to use her to get back at Shane. Everyone knew they hated each other's guts and Daryl didn't want to lose a friend like her over somebody like that idiot. Their enmity wasn't only due to personality clash but had also been written in the stars because no doubt Shane would follow in his Daddy's footsteps and become a copper. Naturally, Dixons never went happily hand in hand with the Law.  
   
Daryl was still a bit surprised that Andrea even cared about him, or looked at him twice. He guessed that her boyfriend had tried to stop her from talking to him numerous times and he was pleased that she hadn't listened. Truth be told, compared to her, he was nothing but poor white trash who regularly got the shit beaten out of him by his alcoholic father. His only blessing was that they had a house, that he didn't live with his father and junkie big brother in a trailer to complete the stereotype.    
   
Fuckin' Shane, he sneered over at his arch- enemy. You don't know what you're holding in your big, clumsy hands and you certainly don't deserve her.  
   
Suddenly, he felt a little flutter of panic rising from his aching gut when he noticed that all the seats were full, bar one because of course because thanks to his dear old Dad, he was the last student to come in. That included the seat next to his best friend Eric, located at the back where they felt most comfortable. Daryl strode over and glared at its current occupant, science geek Milton with his huge oversized glasses that made him look bug-eyed. He always knew the answers in science and math classes.   
   
'What's your problem? You couldn't even save me a seat?' Daryl hissed at Eric, now ignoring the nerd who had looked terrified and speechless under his glowering gaze.   
   
'Sorry. Didn't think you were comin'...Shit! You OK?' Eric took in his appearance.   
   
'Tell ya later.' Daryl mumbled under his breath, jerking his head towards Milton but the intruder didn't seem to be paying them any attention, in fact he was babbling excuses.   
   
'That's my seat. Take a hike.' Daryl efficiently cut through his white noise.  
He was rewarded with a look of mild fear and Milton was visibly cowering now as he stammered; ’S...Sorry.'  
   
Daryl took his seat without thanking him, out of the corner of his eye he could see Rogers raising his eyebrows but he said nothing. Probably thinking I deserve a break, Daryl thought irritably. Miraculously, he even felt the pain recede a little, even so, he couldn't stop himself from wincing as he slowly sank down onto the chair while holding his bruised ribs. All the while hoping no one noticed.    
Unfortunately, at least one person did.    
   
Eric regarded him with even more concern and without a word, passed Daryl a folded piece of paper as soon as Roger's back was turned while he wrote on the board. Daryl did what he usually did whenever Eric insisted on passing him notes - he rolled his eyes as he opened it.   
'What happened?', Daryl read on the sloppily written note, then glared at the sender.   
'Nothin'.' Daryl hissed in reply, suddenly very aware of the onlookers, not to mention eavesdroppers around them. Although, sadly, his dad's beatings were an open secret.  
   
Eric raised his eyebrows and shrugged. He knew Daryl well enough by now to take the hint that his latest injuries were off-limits, at least for the moment. Instead, he offered his best friend a knowing, crooked smile. They'd grown close enough that Daryl occasionally confided to him and had told him one or two things about his home-life. Sometimes he just needed to vent to someone he trusted.  
   
Knowing what his Dad was like, Eric was always worried about him but he didn't pry. He was the only real friend Daryl had and he depended on him, so he tried to not get too defensive when Eric asked about Merle and when he was coming back. Or when the other boy asked in a more roundabout way – what they were going to do about his dad's drinking. Or when Eric sometimes became so furious on his behalf that he burst out that Daryl should report his dad for hurting him like that or at least tell Merle. Daryl couldn't blame him - Eric just cared.  
   
But lately, Daryl just shook his head whenever Eric asked him about his brother and why he was gone so long. Because he rightly guessed that Daryl's father probably wouldn't dare to put his hands on him if his big brother was around to stop it. But Merle was still a no show – had been for a few months already, making money to bring home apparently. Their Dad was always just happy to take it and didn't ask where it came from.   
   
Unfortunately, to top off the great start to the day, Rogers heard them in mid-stream as he was explaining the different types of charts and when they could use them. It was boring as hell and even the gifted teacher couldn't change that.   
   
'Daryl, you already came here late, son. Now I hear you talking while I'm speaking. I need to talk to you after class and I'd say stay behind after this one but I've got a meeting. Mr Burns is sick though, so I'll be covering your last period, come and see me then, OK?'  
Daryl sighed in resignation as he nodded.  
   
His teacher did his best to keep his voice normal and pretend he was in trouble but Daryl wasn't fooled. There was softness beneath the surface there and no prizes for guessing what he was going to 'speak' to him about.  
   
He rolled his eyes but answered politely. 'Yes, Sir.'   
   
'Yes, Sir.' Someone imitated slavishly. 'Teacher's pet.'  
Daryl heard the whispers and glared around, thinking that the teacher shouldn't have asked him like that in front of the whole class. But he always did. Didn't he realize that he was just fuelling the rumours about them?  
   
Shane grinned lewdly, making sure they had eye contact before licking his lips slowly. 'Homo,' he mouthed at him silently.   
   
Daryl stuck two fingers up at him.   
   
'Ain't like the first time he's sucked someone off.' Travis, another dumb jock in Shane's crew chipped in, leading to uneasy laughter from most people but raucous roars from the bullies.  
   
'Drop dead, retard.' Daryl hissed as he stubbornly looked down at his desk as he felt his face glow red.  
'Quiet!' The teacher yelled suddenly. Making all students sit up straight in shock because they rarely heard him raise his voice like that. He didn't need to.  
   
The lesson continued but Daryl couldn't really focus because of the pain. It hurt like a bitch every time merely to draw each breath and he couldn't quite expand his lungs to get enough air. This would push him into a full-blown panic attack if he let it.  
   
He hoped he hadn't broken a rib or two - he knew too well how long they took to heal. If they were just bruised – that was fine – just meant a little pain for a few days. Last time, Will had taken him to the hospital when it still hurt to breathe after two weeks – he'd seen the fear and panic in his father's eyes. Guilt too – also over his arm he broke at the same that also stubbornly refused to heal. Or more accurately - was healing bent and had to be broken again and reset. What made it even worse for Daryl was the knowing looks that passed between the doctors and nurses who didn't hide the fact that they didn't believe his dad when he said that Daryl had fallen down the stairs. They'd told Will to wait outside and his father had left him reluctantly, no doubt worrying that Daryl would make a slip and tell them the truth.  
   
When they'd seen his back they upped their game in trying to coax Daryl into telling by keeping him and his father separate as much as they could. When asked for what felt like the thousandth time how he 'really' got those broken bones, he just confirmed his dad's incredibly stupid story.     
   
***  
Still, Will had been really sorry that time and still feeling incredibly guilty, he drew Daryl to him the second they arrived home. Daryl recalled how gentle his Dad had been when he did that, taking special care not to make his broken ribs hurt more than they already did. Even though he was fifteen years old and should have been embarrassed about sitting on his lap, Daryl felt comforted as he rested against his father. They sat like that for a while in complete silence, Daryl just listening to his father's heart beating next to his ear and the sounds of his breathing before Will's interest turned back to Daryl's re-set arm.  'Can't believe I did this to ya...' He'd whispered as he examined it carefully in apparent shock and disbelief like he hadn't been there when it happened. 'I'm sorry I lost it like that.' He sighed mournfully. 'Can't even remember why now.'   
   
'It don't matter, Dad. It don't hurt.' Daryl tried to suppress a wince.  
   
'No, it ain't and I know it does.' Will shook his head mournfully. 'Ain't nothin' about this that's OK.' He repeated more quietly.  
If Shane and his buddies or Merle had seen them together like this, Daryl knew that they would have never let it go. He would probably be labelled a fag or a sissy for the rest of his life, better they thought that his dad beat the crap out of him rather than know about the times when they sat together like this. Even if it was only because Will was feeling guilty.  
But not only then.    
The times Will hurt him and tried to make himself feel better about it often made Daryl feel ashamed that he had not made his father grovel a little longer.  
It was just so much easier to forgive.  
   
These days though with Merle gone, Daryl always expected to get his Dad's fist so part of him thought the moments of closeness like this were almost worth all the pain. When Will would hold him and stroke his hair just like he was little again.  
   
'I'm sorry. I just lose it sometimes. I get so damn angry and take it out on you although I don't want to. Can you you ever forgive me, son?'  
   
Daryl had nodded understandingly like the good little boy, his father needed him to be. His defences were momentarily down at the feelings of safety and love washing over him. Daryl knew that he was the only who could ever bring this side out of their dad, and only when they were alone together and instinctively, although they'd never discussed it, Daryl knew that his dad had never been like this with his brother.   
   
'You're so special, ain't like me or Merle and I don't know how I could do that shit to you. Don't know what makes me...I must be sick in the head.'  
   
Daryl knew what he and his dad had – no matter how destructive it was at times – was special. Nobody else got to see him like that. Nobody else knew how nice his Dad could be when it was just the two of them. When his father wasn't being drunk or violent, he showed how much he really loved him despite it all.   
   
'I'll never do it again, promise. I'll stop drinkin' – ain't ever gonna risk it happenin' again. I promise you that, son.'  
   
'Yes, Dad.' Like clockwork, Daryl gave the dutiful answer he knew would please Will – the same one he'd given a thousand times before and was rewarded with a kiss on the forehead.  In turn, Daryl cuddled into his father's chest, knowing that it would please his father even though he knew he was far too old or this babying shit.  
His father responded by making a surprised sound of pleasure.  
   
   
***  
   
Unfortunately, hearing Travis' cruel taunt from where he was sitting with his head down brought back memories of Mike’s heavy body on top of his slight one and the blind terror of it all. As well as the humiliating and disgusting thing he'd been forced to do beforehand. Then the aftermath was clear as day, he could almost see himself where he'd spent days curled around his father on the sofa. Trying to shut out the world, Daryl recalled how deep he had buried his head into his father's lap or against his chest. Will held him put with an arm slung casually about him as he slugged his drink or chugged on a cigarette. It was all a pathetic attempt to escape reality -  it worked nonetheless and Daryl had slowly gotten back to his old self. During that time, his father had only let him out of his sight for necessary bathroom breaks or let him go when he was trying to coax him to eat and drink, but Daryl didn't mind.  The TV had been on blaring out the whole time and at the beginning, Daryl had barely noticed. Back then after it first happened, he could only feel his Dad’s hands gently soothing him, and he only had ears for his soft voice occasionally murmuring over him.   
   
After Mike's attack, Will had kept him home from school for a week.  
   
Daryl shook his head to come back to the present. Just in time because Rogers asked him a question. Even though he hadn't studied or done the homework, he gave the correct answer after merely glancing at the equation sprawled across the otherwise empty black board.  When he did, the teacher raised his eyebrows in surprise. But to Daryl, the answer was always obvious and he didn't get why the most of the other students found it so difficult.  
Daryl couldn't really focus on English or History or any of the other dumb classes. He didn't want to be there in Chem either – the last period with Rogers who was going to teach them. He thought about faking being sick so he could go home. But in the end, he decided to get it over with. Rogers would only pursue him more if he smelled a rat.  
   
Finally, it was the end of the school day and they started to tidy their books away. Daryl tried to sneak out with the others, hoping that Rogers would forget but the teacher was ready for this and stopped him.   
   
'Hold up, Dixon. I told you this morning that I need to talk to you.' The teacher motioned on a lagging student as the class emptied –no doubt the girl wanted to earwiggle.  
   
After the last student left, Rogers closed the door and Daryl didn't know why but he felt a fleeting moment of panic because all that came to mind then was his little flashback brought on by a stupid comment by one jock and he also remembered all the filthy names some students had called their maths teacher.  All the taunts and dirty jokes directed at him. Had their real function been as warnings to tell each other to be careful when they were alone with their Math teacher? Had he got it wrong after all? Was Rogers really a perve?  
   
Daryl felt like there were butterflies in his stomach as doubt and suspicion filled him when nothing the other students said had ever caused him concern before. But he told himself that he had never got that kind of vibe from the man and pushed the fear aside and instead, rudely squared up to him. 'What ya want? I got to go home.'  Daryl crossed his arms over his chest and stood with his legs wide, giving off an air of insolence as he chewed gum loudly in the teacher's face.  
   
Is that because your father will beat you again if you're late? Rogers wondered silently to himself but didn't dare give voice to his thoughts. 'I'll make it quick then. To answer your question, what I want, son, is you to speak to me with a little more respect in future.’   
   
Daryl shrugged his shoulders, he just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible so he figured he'd agree with whatever the teacher said.  
   
'Daryl, look at me.'  Reluctantly, he obeyed and looked up. 'Why didn't you do your homework and why are you limping, again? Trouble at home, huh, son?'  
     
'No! Jus' fell out of a tree.' He snapped back sarcastically.     
   
Rogers frowned like he didn't believe what he was told. Of course he didn't.    
'You sure? 'Cos you 'fell out of a tree' last month too and three times before that.'  
He shrugged again.  
The teacher's tone turned low and confidential. 'Come on, you can tell me about your father. it won't go any further, I promise.'  
   
He stood his ground until Rogers leaned forward to him close enough to touch his shoulder, then Daryl went pale and responded by drawing back sharply, causing the teacher to immediately back off.    
'No, I won't 'cos there ain't nothin' goin' on!' Daryl snarled, angrily. 'I'm jus' clumsy, is all!’  
   
 'You don't need to protect him. We can make it all stop if you just let us help you. He won't go to jail, if that's what you're worried about.'   
   
Enraged that he had come so close to the truth and wanting to defend his father, Daryl headed for the door and thankfully, Rogers didn't stop him this time.    
'Don't need your help and I'm tellin' ya the truth!' He turned round from a safe distance to fire back. Then he rattled the classroom door-handle as he threw it open and let it bang against the classroom wall with a deafening sound.  
   
Outside, Eric was leaning against the wall, waiting for him like he usually did.    
'Did he ask you about ya Dad?... Did you tell him?'    
   
'Course I didn't!'   
   
Even if Eric knew, Daryl still hadn't got used to hearing him talking about his father like that. Like he knew him. It made it more real somehow.   
'Are ya goin' home now?'  Eric's tone was deliberately neutral.  
   
'I guess so, why?'   
   
'Just asking if you want to cruise on to my place?'  
   
'Nah - I think it's best if I get home. How much did ya hear anyway of us talkin'?'    
   
'Nothin' much. 'Sides, that door is pretty much soundproof. I mean - who wants to have to listen to the teachers outside the classroom?'   
   
They chuckled. That's what Daryl liked about his friend – Eric was down-to-earth and could make him laugh anytime and get rid of the tension in the air.  
As they left to leave, Daryl involuntarily shivered at the mere thought of going home, not knowing what kind of mood his dad would be in – being punished in the morning didn't automatically mean that he wouldn't be again later on in the day. Made it more likely, in fact, especially as Merle hadn't brought home the bacon yet which made Dad more irritable than usual.  
   
His friend must have noticed his reaction or sensed it anyway because he gave him sidelong glance. 'Are ya sure ya don't want to come with me?' He ventured. 'My parents won't mind...hell, they'll be happy.'  
   
Daryl wavered because he really did want to go with him but he couldn't risk giving his father another chance to beat on him. It wasn't the first time Eric had invited him, but he always refused - mostly for that reason. But that didn't mean he wasn't tempted.      
The only thing preventing his feet from following Eric's to his place this time was his appearance, not that he needed to look in the mirror – he was reminded of what he must look like each time he tried to move.  
Knowing this, Daryl did his usual thing and reluctantly declined. He was only glad that Eric still bothered to ask him – it was still nice that he made the effort. Then again, he knew why.  
   
'Maybe next time then?' He said like he did every time Daryl refused then shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing, coaxing a smile from Daryl who was wondering when Eric was going to give up.   
   
'Uh...maybe.'    
   
'You sure...you gonna be OK?'    
   
'I'll be fine. Don't worry.'  
   
But he didn't look convinced. 'Cool. See ya around.'    
   
'See ya.' Daryl waved back, wishing above everything that he could have gone with Eric into that house from where the delicious cooking smells were always wafting when you walked by. Dad hardly ever cooked except when he was feeling guilty. Daryl was no master chef either, other than cooking what he'd hunted - squirrel-stew had become something of his speciality.   
   
Long after Eric turned off at his corner Daryl looked after him longingly as he disappeared into his house where his normal loving parents were until he became afraid that he would be late. Even though he loved his dad – Daryl couldn't stay blind and tell himself that things in their house were exactly normal. Other boys in his class didn't receive the excessive 'paddlings' that he did regularly and not for the first time Daryl wished he had a different dad. And like always right after thinking that, he’d feel guilty himself for being disloyal. He often found himself doing this, but he'd realised early on that you couldn’t pick and choose your family, no matter how badly you wished you could sometimes. Didn't stop him daydreaming though...In his other life, Eric was his brother as well as Merle and Eric's parents were their parents and Andrea was his girlfriend. Merle didn't get off his head on drugs and had a regular, boring job where he didn't risk getting in trouble with the law.  
   
But that was all fantasy, in reality, all you could do was to not piss off the dad you'd been given and try to keep him happy. But for Daryl, on most days that was an impossible task since a mere look could be interpreted the wrong way and be an excuse for a bust lip or a bloody nose.  
   
Daryl also cursed his brother at night sometimes, for leaving him alone with their father all this time. Merle had bought Dad's reassurances and promises far too easily that he wouldn't hit his fifteen-year old brother while he was gone.   
Daryl paused, hanging back until the last possible minute but only prolonging the inevitable. Knowing he couldn't really take much more from his father, not with his already battered self, he took a deep breath through his nose and started walking and did his best to block out the pain. Not for the first time, he wondered if one day his dad might takes things too far and kill him.   
   
   
….   
   
   
   
 After that day, Mr Rogers would often call him to the back of the class for one reason or another – missing homework or for college advice (Daryl nearly choked at that lame excuse – no Dixon ever went to college) or to mostly ask about how things was at home. Daryl thought he was an extra brand of dumb to make it so obvious that he'd singled him out. He hated the special attention as Shane and his buddies continued to torment him. 'Hey Daryl, better watch his hands unless ya like it, faggot.'   
'Teacher's pet. What did ya have to do to get 'A'? Suck him off?' Were regular jibes whenever he received another detention.   
   
Daryl couldn't believe that Mr Rogers didn't seem to notice or care and wasn't worried about his reputation.   
The math teacher rarely held another student back after class now even if they misbehaved. He'd give them some other punishment instead like writing lines or extra homework and this didn't go unnoticed by the class. Daryl thought fleetingly how weird it was that the authorities hadn't investigated Rogers yet if there was fire as well as smoke. Especially when he caught the other man gazing at him a little too long for comfort.    
   
It annoyed the hell out of him but after a while, Daryl was fine with it as long as the man didn't try to touch him. After all, he'd been through worse. That didn't mean Rogers didn't push his luck occasionally by trying to pat his back or side-hug him even - though he always backed off when Daryl told him to or when he pushed him away.  
   
Daryl insisted on keeping his head down, not giving his teacher any more excuse to keep him back but none of it made any difference. It wasn't really detention by any means, just an excuse for Rogers to talk, more often than not. Often, Daryl wasn't in the mood to humour him and would lash or act out until he reminded himself that his teacher was just showing concern – and didn't meant to hassle him with his incessant questions about his home life. He gritted his teeth and bore it, simply because he didn't want to arouse his interest anymore. Besides, there was always the threat - never articulated but was there none the less – that even Rogers would get fed up with his fiery temper and snarky backchat one of these days and give his dad a phone call to complain about his bad behaviour. Then Daryl knew he'd be in for it for drawing attention to the Dixons.    
   
Daryl doubted that would ever happen though, Rogers meant well, and was a very patient man. He would never go behind his back and betray him like that. He understood the kind of family he came from and what his dad was capable of.    
And the fact that these sessions often meant he missed more less interesting classes that he could pin Rogers for being late for, wasn't so bad either.  
   
….   
   
Rogers, for his part, couldn’t help but recall his favorite student's sense of caustic humor even when the situation was tragic, ‘Falling out of a tree’ was his favorite. It wasn’t as much the lies as it was the boy’s facial expression when he told them – he had that look of cock-eyed confidence to him even when he looked beat to hell while he didn't seem to trust himself to lie convincingly enough to fool his teacher. Usually Carl didn’t make a big deal out of it –  tried to talk about other things instead to make the boy relax and become less suspicious of him, hoping this would eventually lead him to opening up about his alcoholic, abusive father.    
   
That's why, he told himself, he kept Daryl behind just like this, more than the others. That was one reason and besides, the boy was gorgeous. Every year, he would choose a particular student, usually below 16 – when they got older than that, they tended to be less easy to mould, less compliant, not to say less alluring to him. Turning them into his 'special projects' (so he liked to call them) was that much harder. When they were younger and needed his help, he could really make a difference.   
He really did try to help them.    
Gradually, over time, the teacher edged closer and closer to the boy.  
Daryl’s temper reared its ugly head at times, but less and less frequently over time.    
'I miss my brother, Merle.' Daryl had eventually confided to him when another month later, the elusive older brother still hadn't returned. He only ever talked about the brother who he appeared to love so much, never the father.    
   
'Things harder with your father without him there with you at home, I bet huh?'    
   
'No! Stop putting words in my mouth! I know what you're gettin' at and it ain't true!'  The boy fired at him so furiously that the teacher couldn't help but draw back and he had to admit, Daryl was looking better these days – no bruises – not where he could see anyway. Rogers wasn't to know that Will held off him every time Merle said he was coming back. Anyway, that thought led to another, how he would love to use checking him over as an excuse for peeling off the boy's clothes very slowly, seductively, then hopefully, one thing would lead to another...If only Daryl would let him go as far.

But then his student ruined it all by hoisting his bag up on to his shoulder, making things very clear that he intended to leave any minute.  
   
Rogers gently held him back, his hand circling his chest from behind, taking care to make his move not too forceful or to make his student feel trapped. 'Daryl...Don't go yet.'  
   
'Leave me be! Ain't listening to this!' And just like that, Daryl irritably shook him off but he didn't go just yet – just whirled round and stared at him as if in challenge.  
   
Rogers couldn't meet those blue orbs of steel and cursed himself for forgetting how fiercely loyal to his father the boy was whatever the bastard did to him and that merely added to his charms. Worse than that – he had made it pretty clear with his bold attempts to gain his trust that he wanted them to become closer. Daryl didn’t seem to mind it as much anymore so Rogers couldn’t help wonder how much longer before he would be able to make his fantasy of undressing him real. Luckily, Daryl didn't seem aware of his intentions or at least not threatened by him. After all, he always backed off as soon as he sensed the boy was uncomfortable.  
   
'I'm just worried about you, son. You're bright enough that you could choose a different path.  Wouldn't you like that?'  
Daryl relaxed to Rogers' immense relief. 'Sorry, sometimes my tongue gets the better of me...I know you don't mean nothin' by it.'  He was calm now as he apologised.  
   
'I understand, son.' That word 'tongue' set off forbidden thoughts and images in the older man's head which he desperately tried to suppress. He silently wondered if this was the right time to maybe get a little bolder? Did what Daryl say just then mean that the trust was there now?  
   
'I just...feel so lonely without him.  He said he'll be back next week for real this time but he's said that before loads of times already. I know he's got to bring back money, we barely got enough for food but still...'   
   
His voice was starting to crack and the teacher could swear that he saw tears in the boy's eyes.  He was simply adorable and he didn't even know it.   
'Come here.' Rogers put what he hoped was a comforting and non-threatening arm around his student and pulled him close. 'It'll be OK. Shh...'  
Daryl didn't object and made no resistance as he slumped against him.   
'There, there. Merle'll be back soon, you'll see. And you're short of food, I can always share my lunch with you.' Carl joked and patted his arm reassuringly.  
   
'Thanks but I think I'll survive. We ain't that poor.' Daryl snapped, squirming out of his grip now as if realising what had just happened. 'Gotta go...he's waiting for me.'  
   
Rogers didn't miss the slight shudder. 'Daryl...If you need someplace ... to stay you can always come home with me.' He stopped himself from adding 'someplace safe' that would piss off the boy for sure.  
   
'Thanks but I don't. See you tomorrow, Sir.' He waved him goodbye.  
   
‘***   
A few weeks went on like this, usually starting off with them just having a casual conversation -  nothing to do with his family problems even though Merle still hadn’t returned back home yet. Rogers could tell that Daryl was desperately worried that something bad had happened meaning that Merle would never come back.  
   
Meanwhile, the high school educator watched his pupil slowly come round, even expecting and looking forward to these 'detentions'. The other students had got bored with teasing him about it, beaten down by the Dixon's fierce glare and Daryl didn't even roll his eyes now when Carl asked him to stay behind practically every day. Carl knew he had to be very careful and not push the boy too fast. It wasn’t the first time he thought that in order to bond with a special boy like Daryl Dixon, he had to bide his time. These things couldn't be rushed. Besides, Carl hoped that the rewards he would get for his patience would prove to be amazing.  
   
One day, the teacher had his arms around a particularly upset Daryl who looked like he'd had seven bells knocked out of him that day. The teenager didn't stop Rogers when he crooned words of comfort at him and even let him tentatively stroke his back and this emboldened the man.  
They'd got so close after all, Rogers thought hopefully to himself.  
   
Then he made his move.


	26. Teacher's Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, they really spurred us on to write! What's Rogers going to do now? Will he hurt Daryl or can he fight him off? Poor Daryl, what is the secret of his inexplicable attraction for men like his father?
> 
> Remember: Kudos and comments are love, give it to us!

*** 

Rogers already knew that the boy wasn't used to getting affection outside the family - maybe not even then. But the way his favourite student had gradually grown to accept his touches - even leaning into them more and more as time went on, made the high-school educator think that perhaps that wasn't quite true. Someone clearly had given Daryl harmless affection and it was obvious that he enjoyed it if it was the right attention, the attack two years ago not withstanding. Maybe his brutish father had a tender side to him? Carl didn't think so. His beloved big brother then? Far more likely, he mused to himself. This gave Rogers hope that he could eventually make a breakthrough.    
    
The time was right and so the teacher suddenly kissed his cheek without warning.  Daryl immediately froze, all wide-eyed in shock.    
The fact that Daryl had tensed up like that as if in fear wasn't unexpected. Carl wasn't stupid, it was a huge leap in their developing relationship after all and he didn't expect him to drop into his lap (literally as well as metaphorically) right away.   
    
Daryl remained where he was after Carl drew back to test the waters to the relatively innocent kiss. Although the teacher knew full well that his student wanted to leave but couldn't make his legs work, it didn't discourage him. But Rogers did pause a while just to drink him in – he was looking so deliciously vulnerable. He praised himself for his remarkable self-control.    
This is going to be easy, Rogers thought with rising excitement. The boy just needed someone to show him what he was missing: a mentor in the bedroom as well as the classroom.  ‘Easy now, just let it happen.’      
    
Daryl found his voice then but still made no move to leave. 'Wha...what ya doin'?' He managed to gasp out.   
    
 'Makin' ya feel all better,' he replied curtly, taking this as consent to go further and seized hold of him more boldly this time to kiss him passionately on the lips while he caressed his arms briefly. Rogers moaned in delight as he dreamily wondered if the boy worked out to get those defined biceps but pushed that image away when he felt himself become hard. He just couldn't hold himself back from the young, delicious Dixon as he forced his tongue further into the boy's mouth while grabbing his ass roughly.    
Before he knew it, he was pinning him against the desk and wanting more than he was being offered and the high-school educator made his student lean back slightly as he kept up his relentless assault on those oh-so-kissable lips.       
    
     
***     
    
Daryl struggled, panicking when he felt himself being held   
forcibly and groped. Meanwhile, the adult's disgusting tongue thrust its way into his mouth, violating it as well as the rest of his body. As if that wasn't bad enough, being trapped like this brought back memories of his dad getting inventive with his knife.   
    
And...other things he would rather forget.   
   
Not that it mattered what bad memories this latest assault dredged up, the old traumas amplified his feelings of disgust and terror and increased his panic and the sensation of being suffocated a thousand-fold.    
'Get the fuck off me! Let me go!' He cried as he struggled uselessly. Rogers was by no means as big or physically intimidating as Mike had been, but he was still only 15.  Besides, his teacher's lust and determination gave him added strength.  
    
However, it seemed that Rogers had heard him for the first time during the whole ordeal when he suddenly withdrew.   
    
Relieved that the creep’s tongue had left his mouth, Daryl    
gasped for air and stared back at the man who he used to think of as a rock to lean on. Stark betrayal and hurt clouded his eyes with tears while he trembled with rage and humiliation.     
    
However, this blessed respite didn't last long as undeterred,   
his teacher claimed his lips for his own again. It turned out that Rogers had only stopped kissing him long enough to pant out, ‘You don’t know how much I want you...’    
    
Daryl’s senses went into overdrive at this, his brain trying   
to send impulses to his body to react and make it all stop, do anything just to be able to get some distance between them. But there was nothing he could do, his body still stubbornly refused to obey him and left him locked in place. Apparently confirming his perverted teacher's delusions that he wanted this and he could only watch as Rogers drank him in and invaded his personal space time after time again, unable to do a single thing to prevent it from happening.   
    
He felt like he was floating on the ceiling as he watched   
himself being ravished when his teacher refused to take no for an answer in his greed.  

Daryl felt a hand grip the back of his neck rather roughly and found himself trapped in his teacher’s arms. Before he knew it Roger's hand was sliding up under his shirt, grazing over his upper-body. To his horror, those ravenous hands found his nipples and when the fingers fluttered over them, Daryl was unable to keep his gasp of distress in.  Of course the teacher took it the wrong way.     
   
His way.   
    
'That's it.' He panted smugly. 'Told you that you would like it', he smiled and pressed a kiss this time to one of Daryl’s flushed cheeks: 'I'll make you love this as much I will. Every single second of it, I promise.’       
    
For a second or two, Daryl was in too much in shock to move or   
speak at all, until Rogers nimble fingers pulled at his shirt and tried to tug it off him. That got a reaction out of him when he realised what was about to happen.  

'No, ya don’t get to do that! Told ya to get the fuck off me!’ Daryl pushed at his teacher with all the force he could muster and stumbled away from the man so that now at least there was a desk between them. His breathing was harsh as he struggled to get it back under control.      
    
Rogers immediately withdrew and the flush left his face as he finally came to his senses. His hands shook as he frowned down at them as if they were to blame, then looked back at his student. Now he didn't feel as excited, he felt embarrassed. 'Daryl...What did I ...? What just happened?' He took a step closer, looking confused.   
    
Daryl couldn't tell if this was an act or if he really had no idea about what he'd just done.   
'You jus' fuckin' kissed me and tried to take my shirt off!' Daryl yelled.   
    
'Keep your voice down!' Rogers glanced around fearfully. 'Now, you know you wanted it too, don't lie to me, Dixon!' He whispered harshly and his eyes sparked with desire as he started to approach him again.  
'Sh...It'll be OK...I won't hurt you,  promise.' He added softly, in a coaxing tone.   
    
'Told you to stay away!' Daryl backed up further against the wall, his heart beating like a jackhammer but his teacher was relentless in his advance.   
    
…...   
     
'I said no! Are you deaf?’   
His teacher only hushed him and continued towards him with a glimmer of lust in his eye making Daryl terrified that he was really about to get raped that day.    
   
'Please stop.’' Daryl pleaded and trembled, hating that pathetic whine that sometimes crept into his voice when his dad was in a more vicious mood than usual. ‘Don’t.’  
Sometimes it worked if he said it in just the right way.  

Rogers obeyed to his surprise and stopped halfway across the classroom.  Now he was the one frozen in place.   
'Sorry.' He mumbled apologetically and held his hands up to Daryl’s astonishment and finally gave up, for now anyway. 'Didn't mean to scare you.'   
Rogers now sheepishly retreated back to the front of the classroom to put his own clothes in order, turning his back. 'Must've misread your signals.'   
    
'I'd say you did, you sick fuck!' Daryl screamed, apparently determined to confront him and run away as soon as he could, like many other boys his age would have done. 'What signals, anyway? Are you fuckin' crazy? You're another guy and you’re fuckin’ old!’   
    
Rogers visibly flinched at that and quickly opened the classroom door to check the corridor. He breathed a sigh of relief as he closed it when he saw it was empty and that silence had descended upon the whole school. They were alone and all this had gone down without a witness.   
    
Carl looked back at Daryl who was glaring daggers at him unsurprisingly even though he was sticking to the invisible boundary between them that the boy had drawn up on his side of the classroom.   
    
It looks like I may have got away with it if he doesn't say anything. Rogers cursed himself for moving too fast and spoiling it before it had even begun. Then he frowned. What the hell was I thinking of doing it here? Could have lured him away somewhere else first?   
Talk about taking a huge risk.   
    
The truth was that he hadn't been thinking. Not with his head, anyway. Not to say that he didn't get a particular thrill doing it right in school under the principle's nose but then again, he hadn't expected this boy's fighting spirit. He should have known that a Dixon wouldn't be like all the others – wouldn't just lie down and take it.   
    
'I'm sorry, Daryl. It'll never happen again, I promise.' He crooned and did see him relax almost imperceptibly. ‘The way we got so close, the sign….'He started to say, but caught the way the boy looked at him like he was insane and quickly changed track. ‘The things we talked about... I was just trying to make you feel all better.’   
    
‘Make yourself feel better, more like! How’s that 'sposed to make me feel better? Ya think promising me you won’t do it again and saying 'sorry' is good enough, huh? Daryl’s voice rose once again in his fury. 'I fuckin’ trusted you!'    
   
    
'I thought…you felt the same way because you didn’t seem to mind me touching you...' He tried to explain again about the closeness he thought they'd developed and how this led to what had happened but the boy wouldn't let him finish.   
    
'You thought what?’ Daryl suddenly snarled. ‘Jus' 'cos I told ya some stuff, and didn’t shove you away each time you hugged me, that mean you think you have the go ahead to jump me? That was your whole plan all along to get close to me, weren't it, fucker?'   
    
'No...Please son, just let me speak...'   
    
'Don't fuckin' lie to me. I thought you were different, that’s all. Obviously I suck at reading people, though I should know by now. Met your type before!'   
    
Rogers winced, remembering what people had said about Mike, Daryl's father's best friend. 'I'm so sorry to hear that.'   
    
Daryl shook his head, momentarily at loss to reply. 'Just shut up…’   
    
Rogers took this chance as he did seem calmer than before and tried again to get out what he wanted to say. 'It will never happen again. I'll never touch you again, I'll keep my distance, I promise. Just please don't...'   
    
Daryl didn't quite believe him and if he could read the future he would have known he was right not to as he continued to punish the man with his words.   
    
‘I trusted you! Thought you gave a shit about me... But you’re jus'   
like all the others.' Daryl interrupted and advanced on him rather than running away. 'Ya fuckin' touch me or another boy... Or try to make me stay behind again, I'm gonna tell everyone what ya did. Jus' a pervert like everyone says. ' He spat at him, his fury had momentarily replaced the terror.  Carl shuddered at his words, but his student rightfully ignored it.    
    
 ***   
    
Daryl stormed furiously out of the classroom without looking back, preoccupied with shaking his head and muttering 'Sick fuck' under his breath and missed the shadow slipping away.  Rogers had got it wrong because unknown to either of them, someone had been watching from outside the classroom, had seen the forced kiss and groping Daryl had endured and witnessed Daryl's furious reaction.      
   
    
***     
    
    
    
Rogers found himself standing alone in the now otherwise empty   
classroom. He couldn’t believe he’d missed the significance of those dirty jokes aimed at him by the students, in a way they also served as warnings to Daryl.    
Thinking if he just ignored them, they would lose their power.    
But Daryl had not listened to a single one of them, sweet boy that he was.   
And how had he repaid him for giving him a chance?   
Groping him and scaring the shit out of him.    
Carl Rogers sighed and sat down, while waves of regret and hopelessness washed over him.   
    
Despite himself, the teacher was shocked at his lack of control,   
he hadn't even stopped when the boy told him to, which was very unlike him.  He wasn't a real pervert like he'd been accused of after all who foisted his attentions where they weren't wanted and he was proud that none of his boys had ever rejected him – at least not outright – like Daryl had done. It had been like something had taken over his body and bypassed his brain and for that, he was truly sorry.    
   
He couldn't shake off how hurt and distressed Daryl had looked – unfortunately, he was looking even more delectable with his cuts and bruises standing out even as he’d been chewing him out and Carl knew that he had probably lost his trust forever.    
The boy hated him - who knew if he was ever going to attend his class again after this.    
    
The teacher sighed, finally realising that he could be in   
some serious shit if the boy told someone what he'd just done to him.    
That his 'special projects' -the students he'd picked out for his individual attention hadn't gone unnoticed after all and there was suspicion laid upon him.  
Someone had obviously blabbed.      
    
He should have kept the last boy but Dale looked like he was on the verge of telling.  Besides, he had aged out, and most of them at the age of 17 started to look like men and he lost interest in them. But Daryl looked young for his age – Rogers reckoned he could have got at least 2 more years pleasure out of him if not for much longer than usual. There was just something about him.  

When they grew older and filled out, they lost their vulnerability and just didn't hold the same allure for him.      
    
He had picked them – the lonely ones, the bullied and vulnerable.   
The boys who had trouble at home like Daryl. Some who were confused about their sexuality, fearing that they were gay, however, by the time he'd finished with them, they were no longer unsure.  
    
Carl could genuinely say that he had tried to help them, those lost boys and gone further than most teachers would have done. But it seemed that he'd underestimated the youngest Dixon who'd fought him off and then threatened him.  Daryl had taken back the control, laid down the law while making him feel like a piece of shit.       
    
He should have remembered that for all the boy's look of sweet vulnerability and wistfulness at times, he was still a damn Dixon and in their neighbourhood, you left them well alone.    
He cursed himself again for rushing the boy when he wasn't ready.  
Robbing himself of the expectations and anticipation he would feel when Daryl eventually caved and willingly at that. After all, they nearly always did.       
    
A shiver ran down his spine - what if the boy told his father or his brother what had happened?       
    
Judging by how upset he'd been, he'd no doubt be painted as   
a fucking monster when he'd never hurt or forced any of his boys to do anything.    
Because that was perverted and evil.  They'd all been willing – especially some of the ambitious ones and not least for top grades.      
    
He couldn't help his addiction and he had to admit that it had been one of the main driving factors for choosing the teaching profession: his love of young boys. But it wasn't like they were children and he was no child molester! But would the Dixons and everyone else see him that way? Society had it wrong. They couldn't understand about the love between him and his boys.  How special it could all be with the right boy, and something told him that Daryl was that right boy. Now he had fucked that all up.    
    
But it had all gone wrong and now he was dreading the next classes where the Dixon boy would no doubt be glaring at him from the back – his contempt and loathing clear on his face with their secret hanging heavy between them.    
That was if Daryl bothered to turn up at all, he knew he could get away with skipping math because Rogers wouldn't want any trouble.   
Not after the huge mistake he'd just made with him.   
    
He also shouldn't forget that Daryl had also threatened him.    
But did his threats mean that if he didn't shit on his own doorstep in future that the Dixon would hold up his end of the deal and keep quiet?   
Carl sincerely hoped so. Finally, the math teacher faced up to himself, what he was, and what he'd done making that gun hidden in his drawer at home seem all the more attractive.    
   
He'd bought it originally for intruders but he might as well use it on   
himself because if the boy told his father or brother, he was as good as dead anyway - might as well make how and when his own choice. At least that way, he'd be spared the humiliation of being fired, the wrath of angry parents when it all came out, not to mention the court case that was if the Dixons didn't get to him first. They'd make him suffer long and terribly like they had the reputation for doing to anyone who crossed them and on some level, he understood that. He'd violated their youngest after all.      
    
 Part of him felt that it would be a relief, not to have to fight or hide his affliction, no - his addiction, he corrected himself. For the first time because of one boy being brave enough to stand up to him, Carl Rogers found the courage to face what he was.  What he'd done. His thoughts drifted then back to Chris, the promising young man destined to get out of that hellhole with a sports scholarship to a university in Atlanta who had hung himself after Rogers dumped him the day after he turned 17.       
    
Carl hadn't questioned himself. He'd even gone to the funeral and offered his condolences to the family – they had no idea that they'd been lovers and the dark part of him got a sick kick out of knowing their son far better than any of them had.  Since it happened, Rogers had convinced himself that they had drifted apart and Chris' death had nothing to do with his brusque rejection. In reality, dumping him had to do with more than just Chris’s age, there was simply nothing more he could do for the boy.  
   
He'd also figured that since Chris had a scholarship he'd leave the village and his older lover pretty soon anyway and he'd been shocked as the next person and sick with guilt when the golden boy had decided to take his own life.    

Fortunately, Daryl had distracted him even then from his thoughts of grief and regret, because that was the same year Merle's little brother was due to make an appearance in his class and he was excited over the challenge that was to come.   
Rogers had seen him around town trotting happily besides his big brother and been surprised at how different they were. Merle was blonde and Daryl brunette but they had the same steely cobalt blue eyes and contemptuous twists to their mouths to match each identical cocky expression and bad-boy swagger.  
    
Look at him now -  that same fearless boy had forced him to confront himself years later, and no matter how much he tried to sugar-coat it, he'd molested them.     
   
Molested.   
   
Picked on their vulnerability and taken advantage of his power over them as their teacher and now part of him felt that he deserved to die.      
    
Daryl had been the one who had made him lose control, but   
also he’d been the one to make him see. Even though he was pretty sure it was a lost cause, maybe Daryl could still be persuaded. After all, he'd given him a taste even if the boy insisted he was straight but Carl Rogers wasn't going to give up on the student he'd invested in most.  He just had to apologize better – not only in words but in action.  
He needed to prove to Daryl that he could be trusted and that he did care about him, that he had nothing to fear.  That he hadn’t just done it all for meaningless sex or with the intentions of abusing him.  Not least for the sake of his job, probably his life too if the father and big brother got wind of it.   
    
He could bide his time patiently and wait for an opportunity. He'd got away with it this long even though the whole school apparently 'knew'.  Of course, being the younger brother of the school principle must have helped - Principle Rogers was his older brother who had practically given him this job. Meaning that the other teachers were probably afraid to accuse him and were scared of being forced to take up the slack if he went.    
Not least because they were severely understaffed – who in their right mind would want to work in a shithole hick village in the backwaters of Georgia?   
    
Did Ryan know about his special hobby? He didn't think so.    
But if he did and was just turning a blind eye to his brother's secret weakness, he always made sure he was protected.   
    
      
\----      
    
Daryl stormed out of there and went straight to the toilets   
but those on the far side of the building. After he had shown his true colours, the last thing Daryl needed right now was for the sick fuck teacher to follow him.   
    
Finally, alone, he started to shake for real, this time in   
his whole body. He let out a quiet whimper when he could still feel the teacher's hands all over him, one on his ass, one slithering down his chest and the tongue he forced into his mouth.  The man’s trembling fingers as they ghosted over his skin, just like he was a crack-addict having his fix of the day - as if Daryl was an ‘all you can snort’ buffet.     
He couldn’t help but to wonder why this happened to him twice already.    
Why were these creeps in to him?    
    
He was sitting on the seat, head bowed and trying to get his stubborn body back under control. When he failed to do this, he burst out of the stall suddenly overwhelmed with disgust and terror. First, he ran to the sink and washed his mouth out. He breathed out a long sigh of relief that he was still alone with no witnesses and regretted the lack of something stronger to wash out the feel, the taste and the smell of the man. Something like a nice, cool beer would sit just with him fine right about now, he thought as he gripped the edge of the sink hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.   
    
Daryl tried to calm down, told himself he was lucky.    
After all, he'd managed to stop it. Bastard hadn't got to do anything...much.      
    
If that was true, why was he trembling like crazy and on the verge of crying like a little pussy, for fuck's sake?      
    
In anger, to stop the pathetic tears of rage, he ran up and   
kicked the stall door again and again and again until it half broke off its hinges, partly he was angry at himself and gave the door a particularly vicious kick as he hissed his thoughts aloud, ‘How the fuck could I be so stupid?’.  
Then his inward anger took a quick turn to the person it should have really been aimed at in the first place, ‘That sick fuck! Where does he get off thinking….?’   
    
'Daryl?'   
   
He heard someone calling his name in the middle of a daze and wheeled around in surprise to see his best friend standing in the doorway staring at him.       
    
'What happened?' Eric asked him not for the first time.   
Then again, that question usually related to whatever Daryl's dad had done most recently, but there was no dad here. Regardless of this, Daryl didn't falter much when answering or change his usual story as he replied: 'Nothin'.'   
He straightened up then and washed away the tears and snot off his face.    
'He jus' got to me, is all. Started spoutin' shit about my Dad and Merle that ain't even true.'       
    
    
'Uh...OK. Don't worry, everybody knows he's a dick.' Eric tried to comfort him.  'Dunno why he makes you stay behind like that…All those detentions when most times, you ain't even done nothin' wrong. Fuckin' creepy if you ask me.'     

Daryl didn't comment although he knew now exactly why Rogers had been so interested in him.   
   
It hurt.   
    
All those afternoons that he’d spent talking to the older man who never seemed to have a mean bone in his body. Him giving advice and always knowing what to say to make him feel if only slightly better. In fact, the classroom where he spent time alone with him had been a kind of refuge where he felt safe from the incessant war going on at home even as he pretended it was all a chore and he hated it. Now it all had been yanked away just like that. And for what?    
    
      
Daryl felt betrayed and angry with himself for not taking the rumours and jokes seriously. He had naively thought the teacher was harmless – that he'd never do to him what people said he would. Now look what good his trust had done for him in the end! He'd only been interested in his body after all just like Mike, he had only pretended to care about him.   
    
He had wanted to give Rogers a chance, the man had tried to talk to him for years already, the teacher always had a kind word to offer in his direction...   
He'd been so encouraging, to the point where Daryl thought he might even have a chance to get out of the shithole he'd grown up in. He'd just thought that he seemed like a decent guy who could help him not end up like his Dad and Merle.    
But instead, he'd really just been playing him the whole time to get him into bed when Daryl didn't even like men, let alone an old one in his thirties.   
    
Daryl was dumb, that was what the problem was. Why would anyone see anything promising in him when he came from the family he came from?    
Everyone looking down on them because of their accent and his junkie thieving brother and his alcoholic father? His dad knew he was worthless, otherwise why would he beat and punish him so much? How could he have believed that he would ever escape the clutches of his father or ever be able to live without Merle? Or escape their lifestyles?    
Then again, he didn't want to be apart from his brother – he often had this fantasy when his dad was particularly violent and spiteful that when the old man died, they would share a house - work and live together as brothers - with their women, maybe even their kids.    
Doing what, he didn't know yet but it was a nice daydream to use as an escape.   
    
Musing on all this, he'd fallen behind his friend. Eric called out to him and so he bit the inside of his cheeks and caught up so they could exit the school and start walking home together.   
     
All the while Daryl was smothering another tantrum big enough that it would probably have Eric question his sanity if he were to let it out.      
    
Eric of course noticed he was still fuming with anger, and good champ that he was, he didn’t comment or talk much and before they parted, he tried to hug him and Daryl flinched.       
    
'Sorry.' The other boy drew back and frowned when he noticed his reaction.      
    
'No, it's OK.' Daryl did something he didn't normally do and hugged him first.   
    
Eric even patted his shoulder. 'Fuck him.' He said. 'Don't let him get you down. If he tries anything else like that you can always report him.'      
    
Tries what? Daryl would rather drop dead than let Eric know what had actually gone down that afternoon.  'For what? Talking to me?'   He tested him with one eyebrow raised.    
    
'Nah, he bad-mouths your family, and holds you back behind class for nothing mostly.    
Pretty suspicious if ya ask me. Not to mention all those rumours about him...  
Surprised he hasn't been dragged into the cop-shop for questioning already. Be careful.'   
    
'Thanks, I will.' Daryl was the first to pull away. 'See ya tomorrow.'      
    
 'Ya'll come to dinner one day? My parents, they like ya – they won't mind.'      
    
'Yeah, sure. 'Bye.'      
    
'Bye.'  Eric called after him as he began to walk home.   
    
Daryl had met Eric’s parents a couple of times, although it hadn't   
been for more than a quick ‘Hi.’ They seemed vaguely normal, and one day he would probably be invited to dinner by them. But now, Daryl wasn't hungry. Food was the last thing he felt like facing. In fact, he felt sick all the way to his stomach and strange to say, all he wanted was his brother or failing that, as a last resort – even his father.    
    
He'd nearly got home when another wave of shakes hit.  
Daryl had to take shelter under a tree where hopefully nobody could see him as a full-blown panic attack assaulted him and his legs gave way.       
    
He shook his head. Fuck!   
Get a grip, nothing happened. Nothing happened. Just like he’d told Eric.      
    
If nothing happened, why did it suddenly feel like he couldn’t   
breathe, unable to catch his breath?      
    
Daryl knew that he couldn't go home in this state back to   
his father or his brother if by some miracle he’d returned home like he said he was going to sometime this week. Something business-like and final in his voice on the phone had told Daryl that he meant it for real this time, but Will's impatience was growing by the day and now he didn't even let his injuries heal like he used to whenever Merle said that.   
Will had heard it so often before.   
    
Daryl was most afraid that his dad and Merle if he was home would sense something bad had happened to him and depending on which mood they were in, Daryl would either get  
comforted or taunted for letting it happen in the first place.    
Getting himself into that situation again...showing weakness and letting a stranger – another adult - get that close to him. Touch him, even. But Daryl doubted that neither of them would blame him, not even his dad, even though he was older now than when it first had happened. After all, he remembered how last time after Mike, their typical Dixon attitude of “toughen-up or you’re a sissy attitude” had gone with the wind.    
    
Still, no matter how much of a shitbag Rogers was, Daryl didn't want to see him 'disappear' like Mike or worse – see his brother go to jail for nothing or have that piece of shit's death on his conscience. After all, Rogers knew he wasn't interested and had backed off.    
Daryl sighed and raked his hand over his face. It was hopeless, they would without doubt recognise the signs, know that something had happened to him. At school of all places.    

They’d be able to read him like an open book.   
    
With a chest full of dread getting heavier the closer he got to home, all he wanted was to go straight to bed and pull the covers over his head. Forget the whole damn thing. After all, Rogers had apologised and promised he would leave him alone in future.   
But what if he started on another boy just because Daryl had told him to fuck off?  
Daryl couldn't stand the thought of someone else taking his place and having the teacher do to them what he'd done to him.    
   
Then again, he'd thought he'd made it pretty clear to the pervert that if he touched another boy again, he would make sure it got out.   
Daryl sighed in resignation but was grateful that he was calm enough now to be able to get to his feet shakily.   
    
Fuck Rogers!  But what was at the forefront of his mind now even above the anger he was still feeling, was that he mustn’t let his dad see how it had affected him and that something was wrong.   
   
Especially as it had already happened before.   
Daryl comforted himself with the fact that his dad would probably be drunk when he got home and if he could get away without rousing his anger, he would probably never know.  By tomorrow after a good night's rest, Daryl could keep the truth from him as long as he kept to his story that nothing happened. He also had more chance if Merle wasn't home yet – it would be harder to hide the signs from both of them. Yet Daryl crossed his fingers that his brother would be keeping his word this time and that he had returned home early.   
   
He missed his big brother badly. 


	27. Interrogations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Daryl going to be able to stand his ground or is his dad going to get the truth out of him?  
> How will he react if he does?  
> Hopefully he won’t blame Daryl. Will's already got his concerns about his sexuality.
> 
> Remember: Kudos and comments are love – give it to us!

Daryl reluctantly dragged his feet to his house, knowing he was cutting it fine with the time. If he was late...He shivered.  
Worst case scenario.

His dad was already waiting for him just like he knew something had happened. For his part, Will Dixon didn't miss the way his son had inhaled sharply at just seeing him standing there on the porch.A s if he was scared at the sight of his own father which both surprised and saddened Will. Worse - he seemed close to full-blown panic at just seeing him.

Nothing new there.  
   
The father's eyes were worried as they followed his son's progress as he plodded along despondently to his door. Will could tell something was seriously wrong with him, the boy was moving with his shoulders hunched and had his head down. Then, when he finally got up to the porch, Daryl refused to look up and without a word of greeting, tried to skirt around him.  That in itself was nothing unusual, after all Will had been punishing him lately for coming home late from school as well as taking out his elder brother's absence on him.  
   
Therefore, nothing about his teenager's skittish behavior around him was surprising but it was the haunted look in the boy's eyes that told a different story.  
   
Will knew that look - he'd seen it before. It had taken weeks of most un-Dixon-like patient cosseting and reassurance on his part to rid his youngest of it and there it was again! To be brutally honest, it sent icy shivers running down Will's spine. Not again, please, please – fucking hell – not again. Not just when I got him better after that piece of shit..., he worried.  
   
Concerned, Will blocked his way.  
'Daryl?' He asked softly and reached round but he evaded his grasp.  
Realizing what he'd done, Daryl shook his head and gasped, 'Sorry, Dad. I didn't mean...' He began to wheeze in panic and took a step backwards.  
'Never mind that.' Will was feeling magnanimous today and proud of it, also he was scared shitless for his son. 'What's wrong?'  
   
Daryl smiled a small, tight smile at odds with his deer- caught-in-the headlights-expression. ‘Nothin’.’

Will tried to grab hold of his arm this time and yank him back inside - didn't want any of the nosy neighbors witnessing any of this but he let his hand fall back to his side with a sigh of resignation when he noticed his son flinch away again. It was clear that Daryl didn't want to be touched even though he could see that Will wasn't mad with him or drunk.  
   
In fact, Will had stopped drinking quite long before lunchtime that day because he'd had a funny feeling in his gut that his eldest would be home tonight. Although Merle had typically not bothered to call to let him know if he was on his way. The boy had said sometime this week on the phone but not the exact day and now Will regretted not laying off his precious brother just because he couldn't control his temper, especially when he was drinking. It would be OK if he came back in a couple of more days – Will reckoned that Daryl's bruises – although already fading, would have disappeared completely by then. Part of him suspected that his eldest never bought his promise not to hit Daryl while he was gone and that was why he didn’t announce exactly when he’d be home. Merle was probably hoping to catch him off guard mistreating his brother. Still, Will didn't really worry about that - he had the boy well-trained and Daryl wouldn't snitch on him because he wouldn't want to drive Merle away again by 'causing trouble between them'.  

Still, this was nothing more than a feeling, maybe not even true. Besides, Merle was unpredictable in the best of times after all.  The scatter-brained boy had called several times to say he was coming home ‘in a few days’ before and yet never turned up. Still, the thought of the dough the boy must be bringing with him filled Will’s belly with excitement and distracted him from his worry.  
But only for a second.

Will turned his attention back to his youngest. 'You OK, son?'  
   
He received no answer just a hangdog shrug like his son didn't care about anything anymore. Bad sign.  Daryl just continued to stare down at the wooden boards of their front porch looking like he was ashamed.  
'Get in.' Will barked – he hadn’t meant it to come out so harsh as he glanced into the street to see if anyone was around.  
   
Daryl paled, quick to obey.  
Will grunted and let him pass but then took a firm but gentle grip of his arm again before he could run upstairs. Meanwhile, he kicked the door shut behind them.  
   
'Dad...I just want to…' Daryl protested, but Will refused to let him go.  
   
'What is it?' Will paused, choosing his words carefully.  ‘Something's obviously upset ya, son.'  
   
'I told ya already. It were nothin'.'   
   
Now his son was brazenly squirming out of his grip but Will wasn't going to let him go, not until he found out the truth. If what he suspected had happened... His heart sank.  
'Daryl,...son, talk to me.'  
   
'No...Just leave me be.’ Will frowned at his whimper, transgression enough for a split lip, let alone Daryl resisting him. 'Don't...don't feel too good...'  
He swayed a little on his feet.  
   
Will always hated seeing his youngest son recoil from him and struggled to control the rising anger. Now was no time for fits of rage – the kid looked terrified out of his wits. More shockingly still, as Will kept insisting on holding him against his will, it looked like his son was going to break down in tears any minute. Will realized that they couldn't carry on much longer like this.

'Ssh...It's OK, it's OK.' He hushed him and after he pulled him into the drawing room, he kicked that door closed behind them too but more violently this time, causing his son to flinch to his immediate regret. 'Sorry.'  
Daryl's blue eyes flew wide at that. The times during his life that he had heard his father apologize he could count on one hand.  
   
'Why ya so scared? What ya think I'm gonna do?'  
Daryl didn't reply but Will partially released him temporarily with one hand to answer his own question by giving his hair a quick brush with his fingers. But Daryl still wasn't convinced and Will felt him tremble in his arms, and he knew that if he could, he would run away.  
'Sh...sh...Tell ya old man what's wrong.'  
Daryl shook his head and Will gripped him by the top of both his shoulders.  
‘Ya can tell him.' Will coaxed. 'Somebody upset ya at school? Is that little fucker Shane and his buddies gettin' at you again? Merle'll be back soon and I'll tell him to...'  
   
'No! No more than usual not that I give a fuck about those idiots! And I ain't a baby!' Daryl snapped and pushed away at his arms crossly.  
   
Will took his seat on the sofa and tried to pull him down with him but his stubborn kid resisted. 'Calm down son, I know ya ain't a baby. Where did that come from, huh?'  
   
Shaking his head and smiling with fatherly pride at his bad-ass attitude even when he was obviously in a very bad place, Will let slip a little smile and finally released him  
Will looked at him, and raised his eye-brow questioningly, awaiting an answer.  
   
'I'm OK! Ya don't have to worry, dad!' Daryl practically yelled at him, standing there between his spread thighs. He knew better than to leave without Will’s permission, no matter how pissed off he was.  
   
'If that's true, then why ya cryin', son?' Will gently rubbed a couple of stray tears off one cheek with his thumb, then the other. 'Huh?'  
   
'I ain't!' He snapped back at his father but was unable to meet his eyes. Probably surprised that he didn't get the tears thrashed out of him for his show of disrespect.  
   
'This ain't 'cos of other boys... This is somethin' else, ain't it? Did someone hurt ya?'  
Daryl drew in a sharp intake of breath. How did his dad know? 'No...' he breathed but his trembling got worse and now there were tears leaving their tracks down each cheek. He ducked his head and wiped them away furiously.

He didn’t want his dad to see him cry; didn’t want him to see him weak.  
   
But Will wouldn't let him hide as he pulled his son closer so that he ended up sitting, next - he brushed back his son's long fringe so he could get a better look at his face before he tilted it up.  
'Look at me.' There was no misunderstanding the command in his tone, yet he spoke softly to him. Daryl merely blinked at him.  
'Tell me, please, Daryl.' He rarely spoke to him with such gentleness – the last time had been two years ago.  
Daryl goggled – did his dad just say 'Please'?  
   
Reluctantly, Daryl looked up at him and he knew that Will would see that he'd let it all get to him. He steeled himself, expecting at least a hard slap to the face.  
But none came.  
'Come here.' Will grunted as he stroked his son’s arm reassuringly and drew him closer so that he was sitting.  
   
Yet Daryl stiffened. ‘Don't, …please Dad.'  
   
Will sighed and loosened his grip, giving Daryl more space. He recalled how he'd been on the porch – his son didn't want anybody touching him, not even him, confirming his worst fears.  
   
Boy's fragile, ain't like me and Merle, especially after what he's already been through.  
Will never gave a thought to what he'd already put him through – in his mind, for a long time, Mike was the only one to blame for his son being even more jumpy than usual.  
The fact that he might be the one mostly responsible for Daryl always being on edge due his countless outbursts of rage he’d had over nothing at all never even occurred to him. He continued to reason silently to himself, it ain't that he's weak. More that he needs gentling, forcing ain't gonna work here. Just gonna make him panic even more and then  I’ll  never get it out of him .  
   
As if on cue, Daryl shook him off, got up and was already halfway across the room before his father called him back, stopping him in his tracks. ‘Where ya think ya goin’?’  
   
‘I just want to be left alone, dad.’  
   
'Don't go.' But it was more of a request than an order.  
   
Daryl's lower lip had started to tremble as he looked at the living-room door then at his father and back to the closed door again longingly. His dad had apologized and hadn't punished him for being a sissy and half of him wanted to run away while the other half wanted to run straight back to him. Yet he was reluctant because he knew that there was some kind of switch inside his father that turned 'nice' dad (the one who would stroke his hair and cook him his favorite food) into 'scary' dad who would yell and hurt him with nothing much between. Never failing to leave him confused and uncertain which dad he was going to get day to day, even minute to minute sometimes. Crazy considering how much he hurt him and still did on a regular basis, he remembered how his father could also make all the bad things in his head go away.

Make it all stop.

At least for a little while.  
   
'Someone's been at you, ain't they?' Will effortlessly struck gold. ‘It’s OK, I don't blame you, just tell ya Dad who he was.’  
Will could see him faltering as he took a few steps back towards him.  
   
But his words didn’t match his body language. 'Get off my case. Forget it, will ya?'  
Daryl knew his disrespectful tone would probably be enough to get him another thrashing but at least his dad would stop interrogating him and let him go afterwards.  
But his dad didn’t do that.  
   
‘I’ll get off ya case as soon as you tell me his name. It's as simple as that.'  
   
'Told you there ain't nothin' to tell. Please, Dad.' He pleaded.  
   
'Somebody hurt ya or at least frightened ya badly, didn't they?'  
   
Daryl shuddered, already telling his father everything he needed to know. He sucked in a deep breath and took a shaky step back towards his escape route again, undecided.  
   
'Tell me who hurt you.'  
   
His boy's face contorted with pain and conflict and the father could tell that he was teetering. Towards him. He only needed one or two more pushes and it wouldn’t be force.  
   
Will opened up his arms to him. ‘Talk to me son, I got all the time in the world.'  
   
'Daad...' Daryl whimpered and twisted his hands nervously.  
   
'Come here, baby.'  
   
That did it. Daryl relaxed and literally ran back into his father's arms. It had only happened twice before - his father calling him that, but he knew that whenever he did - he wasn't going to get hurt but comforted.  
He didn't have to be a Dixon - not today, he sighed with relief as somehow, he ended up in his father's lap.  
'What did he do?'  
   
He buried his face in the older man's chest for comfort. He was remembering the teacher’s rough and uncaring touch, not caring whether he wanted it or not - so unlike his father’s right now.  
Or his brother’s.  
   
Will felt sick wondering how far the pervert went with him when nothing he did could stop him from shaking. Will had to go one step further to reassure him. He brought them to the floor.  
   
'Dad – what ya doin'?' The teenager asked timidly in bewilderment.  
   
'Doin' my best to make you feel better.'  
Daryl made a choked sound at that.  
'Only like this...Sh.' Will started to rock them back and forth on the faded carpet. There wasn't room to comfort him properly on the couch.  
   
Daryl inhaled sharply and started to say something but stopped. Then he let out a long sigh and Will thought his reaction was weird. What was wrong with saying you wanted to make someone feel better? Pretty harmless, wasn't it? The father narrowed his eyes as the cogs started to turn faster and faster in his head.  
'You're gettin' too big for this shit.' Will joked to try and break the tension. He knew that Daryl felt embarrassed.  
   
Although he didn't reply, Will felt him relax a little.  
After a while of comforting him this way in silence, Will almost gave up on getting anything out of him today. But he was rewarded when Daryl gradually calmed down and even closed his eyes.  
'Sh...' Without thinking, only wanting to reassure him, Will instinctively ran his hand under his boy's shirt to caress his side.  
   
'No! Don't!' Daryl yelled angrily, fully alert suddenly even though his father reckoned that he had been in a light doze.  He shoved at the offending hand frantically.  
   
Will immediately tore it away in shock because Daryl had never reacted like that before. Then again, he had to admit - most of the time whenever he touched him under his clothes he’d made damn sure the boy was in one of his deep sleeps first. And he'd often had his own reasons for doing that – not just soothing him back to sleep.  
   
Daryl's own hands scrabbled to get away but Will had wrapped his arms round him again.  
'Sh...sh. Calm the fuck down - it's gone! See? It's gone. Didn't mean nothin' by it. I'm ya father!'  
   
Daryl quivered and those damned tears were threatening to fall again.  
'Tell me his name, son.' Will soon started up again and buried his nose in his hair, breathing in his scent making Daryl tense up again. 'Please .'  
But Daryl continued to shake his head.  
'Then take ya clothes off.'

***  
   
'Wh...What?' Daryl stared at him in shocked disbelief. If he was blushing before, now there was a single fire ablaze in each cheek. Moreover, his mouth started to tremble including that tell-tale lower lip of his. 'Why?'  
   
'I need to check you over, son. Make sure he didn't...' Will went red and looked away, too embarrassed to say what in front of his innocent son. At least he still hoped he was. Plus, he didn't know what he was looking for exactly but he knew he'd recognize it if he saw it.  
Proof.  
Will hastily backtracked. ‘I only meant ya pants. Do it!’  
   
Daryl recoiled from his loud voice – his dad sounded weird – excited somehow and his panic grew, especially when his dad didn’t even give him a chance and started taking them off for him.  
'No! What ya doin'? Get off me!' He slapped away Will's hands but his father was relentless. He had his pants nearly down to his ankles by now. His dad could see his underwear! There wasn't much between him and his dad's....and here he was lying across his father’s lap just like a little kid who was about to get a spanking for fuck’s sake! What had he been doing sitting in his lap to begin with? There must be something wrong with him, no normal 15 year old boy should be sitting with their dad like this! Or end up being sprawled across him like he was now! If Merle was there he would never hear the end of it...  
   
'Don't, please, dad!' He was sobbing now in shame. 'Stop!'  
   
That switch inside him turned off and the father in Will realized how terrified his son actually was. He abruptly stopped what he was doing and pressed a kiss to the top of his son’s head as he shushed him.  
Daryl chest hitched as he fought to control his breath but said nothing, making Will feel like an insensitive ass.  
'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that but if you'd only tell me what happened, I wouldn't have to!'  
   
Daryl sheepishly tried to make himself decent again by pulling up his jeans. He either didn't hear or was too stunned to answer. In any case, at least he'd stopped crying.  
But Will grabbed him again before he could find his feet.  
'Don't!' His son fought him. 'Let me go!'  
   
'Why did me doin' that get ya in such a state? Is it because of something that bastard did to you?' Will demanded as he held him trapped once more. 'Tell me!'  
   
Daryl quivered and hunched his shoulders, unable to meet his eyes. 'No, he didn't do that.' Daryl realized his mistake too late.       
   
His dad immediately pounced on this. 'So he did do somethin'? Who is he? How far he go with you?' Will's grip on him became almost painful as the endless torrent of questions kept tumbling out of his mouth without pause.  
   
'I keep tellin' ya nothin' happened!' Daryl insisted hoarsely.  
'But he tried, didn't he?'  
Daryl let out a long sigh. 'Dad – can ya stop talkin' about it? Let me go up to bed.'  
   
'Ain't ya even hungry?'  
   
'You always say there's no food in the house. 'Sides, I jus' wanna sleep.'  
   
'No. You can sleep here. I know you need to. But ya think I'm lettin' you out of my sight after today?'  
Daryl protested under his breath.  
   
Will pulled them back onto the sofa and got ready for a long night. Strangely, he wasn't hungry either.  
'Go back to sleep if ya want to, I know how exhausted you must be.' He ordered him even though it was barely 6pm because a plan was already forming in his mind. So, his son wouldn't let him see when he was awake? Well, then, he could look when he was away in Dreamland.  
   
His son protested of course, pleading with him to let him go again but Will stroked his hair until he stopped – doing that had worked in the past and after what seemed like an eternity, Daryl eventually gave up and his breathing got back to normal. He was apparently fast asleep. Will watched him sleep for a while, thoughts of revenge and his imaginings of what his son must have gone through crazily spinning in his head. He badly wanted to check for tell-tale marks but didn't dare after his reaction when he'd merely slid one hand up his side without thinking. He also wasn’t in any hurry for his son to feel that kind of panic he’d felt when Will had pulled down his pants.  
Not until he could be sure he wouldn't wake up. The boy was sleeping like a bear in his winter-sleep just like he had for days after Mike when Will had kept him home to take care of him. He'd figured out by now that it was the way the boy's mind healed himself.  
   
….  
   
When he heard Daryl snoring quietly after half an hour impatiently spent reconsidering his next move, Will sighed and finally did it. With determined but gentle hands he pulled up his boy’s shirt. He knew he was taking a big risk and just as he expected, Daryl tensed up again and stirred uneasily.  
Will paused, afraid he would wake up.  
'It's OK...Shh...' He murmured reassurance and Daryl started drifting off again.  
   
When his father didn't find what he was looking for, he breathed a sigh of relief and tugged down his shirt to cover as much as he could of the exposed skin. God forbid there was no new bruises in the wrong places, indicating that at least he hadn't been held down. Yet the anxious father still wasn't fully convinced.  Even if Daryl said the bastard hadn't stripped him of his clothes, he could have done plenty else. Or threatened him into complying.  
   
Will's was mulling it over and he was pretty sure that it had probably been a teacher who had molested his vulnerable son – vulnerable more than most because what had already happened to him. He knew that no fists or weapons would ever manage to scare his boy like this, he was afraid of nothing usually.    
'Ya ever gonna tell me who it was, boy? So I can take care of the piece of shit by myself or better yet, set ya big brother on 'im when he gets back...Merle knows how to make scum like that suffer, sure he does. Better than me. Says he'll be back real soon.'  
   
Will was murmuring into his sleeping son's hair, hardly aware of what he was saying.  
'Still don't know what he did to Ole Mikey...but sure it weren't pretty. My guess he ain't alive no more - fuckin' hope so. Bastard don't deserve to live after what he did tho' I did love him like family once, I swear.' Will's voice cracked a little and he paused. 'Thought he loved ya too...'till the fuck did what he did.'  
   
Thinking about Mike naturally made him want to drink, especially on top of everything else and Will stared at what little was left of the bottle of whiskey he’d hit hard the day before but he hadn't had a drink since the previous morning when he'd only drunk a couple of glasses. Now it was standing there on the coffee table right in front of him like it was taunting him. After not much consideration, he leaned over and took his first swig of the ‘new day’ and mentally clapped himself on the back for his self-control.   
He cursed himself when he had set down the bottle on the table a little too hard in anger over that particular memory of his son being violated to waking up said son.    
   
'What's going on, Dad?' He looked up at him warily.  
His father drinking was always a bad sign.  
   
Will sighed, he hated that look but mainly he sighed because a lot of this had a sense of deja-vu about it. ‘Nothing to worry about. Ya fell asleep, is all. Ya want something to drink? To eat maybe?'  
Daryl nodded.  
   
'How 'bout a peanut and jelly sandwich with a big glass of milk?’  
Daryl inwardly rolled his eyes. His dad hadn't made him that since he was like...what...ten? But he didn't complain. He knew why his dad was acting like this. And he was hungry.  
   
‘Think I bought some the other day 'though that goddamn brother of yours has left me beggin' for scraps for Joe and Smitty among others.’  
Will had called on all the favors he had but could tell those he'd borrowed from to keep him in drink and woodbines were losing patience. Even Marty's generous line of credit specially for die hard locals like him was wearing thin and he'd been thinking of brewing up his own moonshine.  
'I'll go and fix it for ya then. I need to stretch my legs anyway.  Wait there for me.'  Will leaned down to tussle his hair reassuringly before he went. It was true that his legs were going numb, but what the elder Dixon really craved was that bottle of liquid gold hiding out in the kitchen.  
   
Daryl took the chance to visit the bathroom when his dad wasn’t hovering over him. When he got there, the shakes struck.  
Stop bein' such a little pussy, he ordered himself harshly. Ain't like he really did nothin', just tried to and he stopped and said sorry. He was nothing like Mike.  
At that thought he hugged himself and whimpered.  
If that was true, if Rogers hadn't done anything, how did his Dad know and why was he treating him like he did after his so-called uncle molested him?  
   
'Daryl! Where ya at, son?'  
   
He rolled his eyes. His dad was just too overprotective and intense at times.  
'I'm taking a piss!' then 'For fuck’s sake…' He added in a low voice as he stared blankly back at the stranger in his own reflection.  
   
He looked like shit, his eyes red and weepy although he'd been sleeping for hours with his dad refusing to let go of him, holding him even in his slumber.  
   
'You OK?' He heard him call up the stairs.  
   
'Yeah, Dad.'  
   
'Well, hurry up, will ya? Got ya food here.'  
   
Daryl stared at himself in the cracked glass of the bathroom cabinet, cracked thanks to their dad throwing a glass at Merle’s head once when he’d been taking pills from the wrong side of the cabinet -  Will’s side. Daryl knew that both his father and brother kept their stash of pills in there. Although he knew Merle kept most of his good junk hidden in his bedroom to stop his father or brother getting at it. Daryl smiled a little when remembering that look on Merle’s face when he’d dangled his little bag of goodies right in front of him as a joke. His big brother had almost knocked him off his feet to snatch it back. Then the other time when he’d stolen a couple of big pink pills (he wasn’t sure what they did but they made him more relaxed anyway) from Merle’s side and got a whipping because they were Dad’s! Somehow they’d ended up in the wrong place and Dad always counted his. Stealing one or two from Merle was usually safer because he was too out of it most of the time to notice.  
   
The time that stuck out most of all in his memory was when he was about 12 and he was holding the pills in his hand before he was aware of it he had swallowed them all down for some reason – a whole handful. Of course they’d been too much for his small body and he’d been out of it for 2 days.  
His head was spinning and his vision darkening by the time he realised that they weren’t the usual shit.   
   
He didn’t get punished that time, however because his father seriously thought he might die, and was debating with himself whether to take him to hospital. In the end, he’d put him to bed and watched over him all night and when Merle turned up the next day, he’d yelled at him to be more careful and not leave his shit lying around for Daryl to get. And when it looked like he’d recover, they’d just laughed at the spaced-out way he was acting. He smiled at that memory, it hadn't been all that fun at the time, but now it was one stock family story that Merle used to tease him about when he called him ‘Baby’ or ‘Princess’. Or anytime he wanted to embarrass him.  
After that his brother started being more careful, hiding the really dangerous shit in his bedroom out of reach.  
   
The teenager looked at the cabinet doors wistfully, wishing he could take some stuff now to take the edge off dealing with his over-the-top dad mainly, now it wasn’t even about what had happened with his math teacher which was already fading.  
   
 'Daryl!'  
   
He jumped and let out a low curse. His dad was getting more impatient now, no doubt reluctant to leave him alone. He noticed the black circles under his eyes and their hunted expression – he didn’t look like he’d spent all evening sleeping.  But he had to admit that a worried and crazily over-protective dad was far better than drunk and violent dad.  
'Comin'!'  
He ran down the stairs and sure enough, his dad had laid down the plate with his sandwich plus a few chips on the coffee-table. He hadn't forgotten the glass of milk of course.  
   
'Now, you eat up, son. You want anythin' else with that?'  
   
'No, that's fine, dad.'  
   
'Good boy.' Will ruffled his hair again and Daryl managed not to flinch. That would have only ruined things.  
   
Will went back in to the kitchen and came back with the bottle of hard stuff for himself. His dinner.  
Daryl had soon demolished his plate but he went slower with the cold milk.  
'Glad to see ya appetite's OK at least. That enough?'  
Daryl nodded.  
'Come here.'  
He sighed but did as he was bid. 

 ***  
He needed some air and a break from the constant questions and concern, something about the look on his face must’ve gotten to his dad because he allowed him to get up and take a walk in the yard for a break. But as soon as he came back and shut the door behind him, apparently it still wasn’t the end of it because his father was calling out to him and demanding him to show himself in not so different words.  
Will beckoned him closer and pulled him into his arms. Daryl didn’t even bother to ask to be allowed to go to bed.  
'Need to go to the bathroom, Dad.' He announced after a while, however.  
   
Will unclamped his arms from around him – unwillingly so it seemed to his son. 'You make sure you come back down after ya finished, son.'  
   
'Dad – come on. You don't need to do this – told ya I'm OK. Can't I just go up to my own room after?’  
   
'You do what I tell ya, boy.' Will was in no mood for disobedience. 'It's for ya own good', he added more quietly.  
Will listened to the toilet flush after he stomped back out and heard him lightly tripping down the stairs again.  
He watched him intently, checking him over as Daryl resignedly came back into the living-room.  
When his dad held his arms out to him and again, Daryl had no choice.  
   
***  
Will could feel his blood boil at the visions of what he would do the animal that hurt his son as he held him almost so tightly that he couldn’t breathe and let out a small sound of protest forcing his father to loosen his grip a little. When Daryl settled down again, Will poured himself a large one.  
What was worse – until he found out who, Daryl was still in danger, especially if the creep worked at the school. If he was someone like a teacher or a janitor ...The father shook his head to clear it. He'd brought the whole other whiskey bottle with him from the kitchen - after all, 'upset' for him was a huge understatement to say the least.    
   
When I get that name out of him, I'll make sure he doesn't have any hands left to touch young boys with when I’m through with him, or anything else for that matter he thought to himself savagely without humor.  
Sensing that his anger was about to take him over if he let it, Will turned on the TV loud and arranged the semi-comatose Daryl so that he was lying on his back with his head in his lap.  
   
A few hours later, half of Will's bottle was gone, and Daryl was snoring softly.  
   
Will even snoozed himself but not as deeply as his boy when the front door banged. He woke up and immediately rolled his eyes. 'Merle!' He snarled.  
There was something of deja-vu about that as well.   
   
Right on cue as if he heard him, his eldest came stumbling in. 'Daryl! Dad! I got it!' He called out and Will heard a heavy thump of him throwing something onto the floor in the hall.   
'Well, ain't this a fine home-coming.' He grumbled with his voice dripping with sarcasm as he came in from the hall before he spotted him them on the sofa.  
Merle opened his mouth to speak again.  
   
'Quiet, boy!' His father motioned with his arm. 'Ya brother's sleepin'.'  
   
'What...what ya doin' with Daryl? Why ain't he in bed?'   
   
Will didn't care for Merle's suspicious look directed at him.  
Everything else became unimportant as Daryl’s started fidgeting in his sleep. Will had forgotten that there was a war going on in his youngest head.  
   
What happened still haunted him, inevitably the events of the previous day managed to invade his dreams and now it was Rogers who had replaced Mike on top of him, pinning him down, touching him everywhere. Worse  -  in this nightmare, Daryl was the younger, smaller version of himself when the latter attacked him. Rogers was nowhere near Mike's impressive size but he still had a lot on Daryl, even now. Daryl cried out when he felt his heavy body on top of him. He couldn't escape, no matter how much he bucked and tried to fend him off and his hands were everywhere and his teacher, just like his 'Uncle' didn't stop this time.  
Daryl whimpered and Will soothed him as best he could but it made no difference, he just became more agitated.  
'No! Get off me!' He suddenly said sleepily, shoving away at his father's arm.   
   
Will immediately released him with an exasperated look at his eldest.  
   
'He havin' a bad dream?'  
   
'You work that out all by yaself, Genius?’  
   
'Yeah, that's all ya want. Thought ya cared, asshole!' His brother thrashed in his dreams.  
   
Will's hands were down by his sides while Daryl acted out in his sleep.  
'Sh...Ain't nobody touchin' ya...Sh...'  
But Daryl was still shouting with his fists clenched.   
   
'Why don't you wake him up? Don’t let him go on like that…’sides, he'll want to see me.' Merle stared at them drunkenly and swayed gently, taking a step towards them. 'I'll do it.' He offered as he dragged his feet closer.  
   
Will growled and put one arm around his brother who had calmed down again. 'Ya stay right where you are, Merle. I think it’s for the better if you didn’t. You don't want to shock him – he don't know ya here, after all.’ The last sentence came out as a reproach.  
   
'But he’d want to know!' Merle protested weakly.  
   
'I told you to leave it!' Will commanded and he backed down. He may have been 20 years old but he knew better than to cross his father. Not when things were as serious as this.  
   
'Fine.'  
   
'You'll see him in the mornin'.' Will said more softly. 'I'll stay with him here. Make sure he don't have any more bad dreams.'  
   
'What's wrong with him?'  
   
'Tell ya later.'  
   
Merle's befuddled brain tried to connect the dots to the last time this happened but he couldn't quite get there. In any case, he'd rather not dwell on why Daryl was down in the living room with their Dad and not in his own bed.  
'What ya been drinkin'? Or takin' anyway? Ya high again, ya no-good piece of junkie shit? Comin' home like that after months with barely a phone-call or a letter all that time, lyin' about when ya were comin' back and leavin' us to starve when I need you the most!'  
   
Merle twitched and looked hurt. 'I was celebratin'.  'Cos I came back with the goods, Dad. That's why I was gone so long.'  
   
'How much dough ya bring back?' Will immediately pricked up his ears in interest.  
   
‘About 3 grand.'  
   
'Good boy.' Will u-turned without warning but it was enough.  
   
Merle beamed at the rare approval that meant his father was appeased even under the circumstances before his face fell and he frowned down at Daryl. He looked at him with almost sober worry now.  
'Is he sick?'  
   
'No – nothin' like that. But'll he need the both of us when he wakes up.' Will replied, his mind far away, already calculating all the booze and meth he could buy with his elder son’s earnings.  
‘Where's the money?' He demanded as he ran his fingers through his other son’s hair.  
   
'In a bag out in the hall.'  
   
Will's moment of joy turned back to anger as he lashed out again at his other boy who he partly blamed for everything. Why hadn't he come back earlier to protect Daryl? Watch over him?  
'You sure 'bout that? Or did ya forget it down in some crummy bar or spend it all on ya cheap whores and drugs?'  
   
‘No I…’ Merle, genuinely hurt, tried to protest when he was interrupted.  
   
‘Get the fuck off me!' Daryl hissed in his sleep, struggling although no one was holding him.  
   
‘Do you know who's he talkin' about?' Merle was barely listening to his father – the 3 grand and the crappy welcome were the very last things on his mind now.  
   
Will gave a tight smile as he shook his head and patted Daryl's back who was muttering incomprehensibly and clenching his fists.   
   
'Did somethin' happen?  Or is it jus' one of his nightmares?'  
   
'Wish that was all it was.' Will sighed. 'Why do ya think he's here with me like this?'  
   
'What the hell do you mean?' Merle paled and grew more alert in his fear for his brother. The penny had finally dropped. 'Another perve been at him?'  
   
'Calm down, Merle. Reckon they didn't get very far – checked him out myself but he's pretty shook up. And scared of course with it.'  
   
Merle suddenly noticed Daryl's fading bruises. 'And beat-up! Look at his fuckin' face!' He snarled at his father in rage. 'That your work, dad?' He started to stalk towards him but his drunken wobble made 6’1’’ frame much less intimidating.  
   
'Back off, Merle. I ain't put my hands on him since ya been gone. I made a promise and I kept it like a Dixon.’  
   
Merle swayed halfway across the floor and doubt flitted across his expression. Whenever their dad mentioned 'Dixon' or what being a Dixon meant, it usually ended in them getting browbeaten. They couldn't argue with family.

'Ya swear it weren't you?' He looked at his father with the pathetically hopeful look of a child who wants their parents to tell him that Santa Claus was real after all and not made-up like a know-it-all kill-joy big brother had said it was.  
   
Will nodded. 'He just had another run-in with that no good for nothing Walsh kid. I tell ya – Shane got the worse of it.'  
   
'Good!'  
   
‘And he'll tell ya the same when he wakes up... But yesterday the poor boy came home today terrified of his own shadow…'  
   
Merle lost his goofy, drunk expression as a cloud of dark fury crossed his face.  
'Who was it?' He growled menacingly. 'Tell me who and when I get my hands on him...I'll make what I did to Mike seem like an express-car to heaven.'  
   
Will nodded his head in approval. 'Exactly what I hoped you would say. I want you to find out and deal with him like you did with the other ... one. Problem is he won't talk about it.' Will found that he couldn't even spit out Mike's name. ‘Maybe you can get it outta him when he wakes up. He looks up to you.’  
   
'Yeah, I know he does…What – he said nothing to you?'  
   
‘He ain't said anything exactly, but I know by the way he was actin'.   
Jus' like when....’ His voice trailed off. ‘I did my best to get it out of him but he wouldn't tell me!’  
Will wasn't sure if he would have told Merle the pervert's identity even if Daryl had told him. The waste-of-space - no matter how much Merle'd sobered up -  was in no condition to take action or be of any help, until at least the sun came up.  
'Up to bed, Merle. Ya better sleep off whatever shit ya been takin' tonight. I'm happy to see ya again, son – don't get me wrong and didn't mean to lose my temper when you came in but you can see why I weren’t myself.'  
   
'Yeah, of course.’ Merle also sounded happy but surprised at his dad’s rare apology and praise. ‘Don't worry about it, Dad. Is...Is he going to be OK?'   
   
 'He's safe for the moment anyway. We'll talk about it tomorrow.' Will dismissed him, petting Daryl's hair who had settled back down again.   
   
But it didn’t take long after Merle left the room for Daryl to fidget in his sleep again. His frustrated screams soon carried beyond the dream into real life.  
   
Will decided to wake him up, fearing that even Merle would hear and come running in.  
'Now, now, tell me what happened. Can't pretend it was nothin' after that. When are ya goin' to spit out the creep's name?'  
Daryl only blinked his eyes bleary with sleep at him as his father gripped him hard by the tops of his arms.  
Will gave up not for the first time that day as he hushed him and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer. 'There, there...Hush, now.'  
   
***

When Daryl woke up in the morning, he was first confused to find himself on the sofa with no sign of Dad. What was he doing anyway, sleeping there? Then it all came back to him, the whole thing that happened with Rogers. It was like a bad dream. But Daryl knew better - it had been no nightmare – his pervert of a teacher had actually come onto him! And hadn't been gentle about it either!  
   
Deal with it, he told himself. Then his stomach rumbled painfully and he remembered that he hadn't eaten anything else since that peanut butter jelly sandwich his father had made him for dinner yesterday. Just like his dad knew what he was thinking, the smell of pancakes cooking drifted over, making his mouth water.  
'Dad?'   
   
'Yes, son?' He called over from the kitchen.  
   
'What's the time? I'm late for school.'   
   
Will came in from the kitchen, tea-cloth in hand. 'Don't worry about that, son, 'cos you ain't goin' to school today. Who touched ya?' He heard his dad say all in one breath without pause.  
   
'What? Ya tryin' to catch me off guard, dad? Don't start that again. Told ya nothin' happened.'   
   
'Ya lyin'. I know it was a teacher. If ya don't feel like talkin'...'  
   
He could feel his father's eyes burn a hole through him and the silence was thick before his father ended it, 'Fine.'  
Daryl shook his head. 'Ain't no point. It's done with.'  
   
‘Never mind. Come and eat.' His father turned back to the stack of steaming pancakes he'd laid on the counter and brought them out onto the table.  
'Get the butter or whatever you want on 'em out of the fridge.'  
   
Daryl’s stomach did a happy rumble at just the thought of them finally having some butter – let alone peanut butter in the house that he almost bounced towards the refrigerator with glee. 'Thanks, Dad!'  
   
'Don't thank me, thank ya brother. He gave me the cash this last night– that's why I could go to the shop early to get you boys a special treat.'  
   
'Thanks.' Then the penny dropped. 'Merle's back?' Daryl’s expression was radiant and his mouth formed a big surprised 'O' of happiness. 'Where is he?'  
   
'Still in bed.'  
   
'Can I go up and see him?'  
   
'In a minute. Eat ya breakfast first.'  
   
Will was pleased as he watched the change in his son from last night. Daryl grinned with joy as he laid down the butter, chocolate spread and maple syrup on the table before they tucked in. Yet he couldn't help silently wondering why his father was being so nice. Like he used to be in the past when Daryl was real little and tried to hide something from him and he was trying to get it out of him. Then again, nothing escaped him – he usually knew everything.   
   
It was no surprise that Merle didn't come out of his pit to join them, Dad told him he'd come back late last night after partying hard to celebrate his ill-gotten gains before he staggered in. Daryl planned to go up the stairs and wake his hung-over big brother in style since his dad had told him he wasn't allowed to go to school. Besides, it was a Friday – a math day - so Daryl didn't exactly mind and then came the weekend – Merle would take him into town and they would have fun. Or maybe even that afternoon if he was wasn’t too hung-over.  
   
Will beamed across at him and Daryl was dumbstruck. He hadn't seen his dad wear that look for such a long time, yet some voice in the back of his mind told him not to fully trust it. He must be acting weird because of what he thought happened to him at school, Daryl could only take a wild guess as to what. Probably the worst. There was that dark veil again clouding his father's eyes every once in a while, much like it often had last time he was attacked by an older man.  
   
Daryl ate less than he normally did, even though his stomach screamed for food. He ate in silence under the watchful eyes of his father, even though he was excited as hell and he couldn't wait to see his big brother again.  
   
Maybe Rogers had done him a favor if it meant having his Dad go back to being nice without his bad temper threatening to explode all the time.   
   
 As soon as he had washed the dishes and helped with the chores around the house to try to keep his father in a good mood, he ran up to Merle's room. He was still fast asleep when Daryl giggled and jumped right on top of him.  
   
Merle groaned and covered his head with his pillow when his brother tried to tussle with him just like he used to do when he was five. Turned out that being 15 hadn't changed things much between them.  
Merle pushed him off weakly.  
'Merle! Wake up!'  
   
'Fuckin' head's thumpin'.' He moaned. 'We'll go out later, OK? I need to sleep.'  
   
Disappointed, Daryl sighed and made to leave.  
   
Yet Merle didn't turn over and fall asleep but instead followed his brother with his eyes in silence a little too long for comfort, and suddenly Daryl held up his hands in exasperation.  
‘What, Merle? I'm goin' now, leavin’ ya to sleep like ya want.’  
   
'I know somethin' bad happened to you yesterday. Came back at 3 in the mornin' and Dad was with you on the sofa while ya were havin' nightmares.'  
   
Like Dad, Merle immediately started with the questions. Now it was Daryl’s turn to groan.. Not you too. ''So? Why didn't one of ya just wake me up?’  
   
‘He wouldn't let me. Ain't normal...'cos last time he did that was because...was because...'  
   
'Because of what Uncle Mikey did.' Daryl answered casually, hiding his true feelings but he looked away to hide his expression.  
   
'Daryl...little bro... didn’t mean to make you think of him again.'  
   
'Yeah? Well, ya did.' He sighed and prepared himself for what was to come because apparently now it was Merle's turn to interrogate him, fuck him.  He stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground.  
   
'Who was it? They hurt ya, baby brother?'  Merle was almost repeating their father verbatim.  
   
Daryl gave him a dark look. 'No! Can take care of myself!   
   
But unlike Dad, his big brother's attention span wasn't so great and he didn’t have his persistence and Daryl hoped that he would forget all about it by tomorrow. He blamed the drugs and his constant prowling for the next girl...or two...or three for that. Daryl was careful not to take Merle's choice of lifestyle to mean that he didn’t care about him. He knew Merle loved him more than life, stupid comments and jibes aside. But his big brother was incapable of focusing on one big thing at a time.  
Bless him.    
   
'Suit yourself.  But ya’ll want to talk about it eventually, I bet.’  
   
'Why? What difference does it make? Doesn't change anything. I still have to go to school on Monday – can’t hide forever.’  
   
'You don't have to do a damn thing, baby brother. If someone put their filthy paws on you, you got somethin’ on ‘em, ‘specially if they were a teacher. It was a teacher, wasn't it?'  
Daryl deliberately looked away.  
'I knew it! Was it Rogers? He always was a creep.’  
   
Daryl gasped. How did Merle guess? His breath hitched in his chest as he recovered.  
‘No, weren’t him! Would ya stop jumping to conclusions, Merle? Had this already from dad, the whole night!'  
   
‘All right, don’t blow a fuse. Well, whoever it was, they gonna be scared and hopin’ you don’t report ‘em. You don't need to do shit.'  
   
‘Yeah, he is scared ‘cos I told him if he came near me again – I’d make sure everybody knew who he was. Satisfied?’  
   
‘Maybe ya did, but just tell me if It was him or not. I'm right, aren’t I?’ Merle replied doubtfully at first and it irritated Daryl to know his brother didn’t think he was capable of standing up for himself.  
   
‘I’m tellin’ ya I did!’  
   
‘Was it him?’  
   
‘No – I mean, yeah, but he didn’t…’  
   
‘No ‘buts’. You want Rogers to get away with it?’  
   
'No! Weren't him! Just leave it, Merle! You sound like dad, a broken record!’  
   
‘You sure? You jus’ said it was!’  
   
‘Ya confusin’ me, makin’ me say the wrong thing…Jus’ give it a rest, will ya?’  
   
'If not him, then who?' Merle, like his father, was relentless. Apparently he did have the attention span for something as bad as this affecting his baby brother.  
   
'Ain't tellin' ya. You'll only go and do somethin’ stupid and then you'll end up in jail. And I ain't losin' you again when you only just got back, I jus' ain't!'  
   
Merle was touched by this even as he continued to harangue him.  
'Baby brother, listen…I ain't gonna do that, jus’ gonna teach the sick fuck a lesson, OK? Make sure he stays away from ya in future.’  
   
‘Like ya did Mike?’ Daryl snapped, causing Merle to flush and his eyes darted away guiltily. ‘You killed him, didn’t you? And you’ll do the same to him if I tell you his name.’  
   
‘Daryl…’  
   
He stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest to stare down his big brother to find out the truth. Merle had never told him exactly what he did to Mike and Daryl had the feeling that even their dad didn’t know. In any case, Mike had never been heard of again. But was Merle capable of murder? Even if someone really, really hurt him?  
Daryl couldn’t take the risk. Merle was the first to look away while Daryl eyed him tiredly.  
   
‘Why do you care what happens to him?'    
   
‘Jus’ leave me alone, both of you! I handled it. I'm over it now.'  
   
'That ain't what Dad says!'  
   
'He says a lot of things! I told the fucker to back off and he did. What's the problem?'  
   
'Why you protectin' the scumbag?'  
   
'Cos I dealt with it, that's why! End of! Bastard ain't gonna come near me, not now, not ever.'  
   
Merle opened his mouth to answer but just then their father called for him to come down and eat breakfast, thankfully stopping him.  
   
Daryl was determined not to let Rogers intimidate him – it wasn't going to be a reason to miss school. It wasn’t like he wanted to be there but it was a Dixon pride thing and he’d be damned before showing that bastard how much he'd gotten to him. He wasn't scared of him like his dad thought he was. For once, he'd been able to protect himself against a predator and it had felt good because he guessed that he wasn't so small and helpless anymore.

He wasn’t 13 anymore.


	28. Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's taken us so long to update – I was swamped with work and we've both had a lot of things going on. Thanks so much to our fans for waiting for so long – we hope that the wait was worth it – if you enjoy it, please let the authors know. So as a treat, we're posting 2 chapters very close together - Chapter 29 will be posted very soon.
> 
> Happy Holidays everybody!
> 
> Remember reviews are love – give it to us!

...

That Monday, Daryl still insisted on going back to school and shook him off, Will forced himself to let his son go with the never ending nagging worry if there was going to be more trouble before this day was over.

By now from what Merle had told him, he was convinced it must have been a teacher and Merle agreed. Did Daryl have class with the bastard?

That Will was worried sick about his son was an understatement so to take the edge off, he downed the glass he was clutching in his hand. It didn't take long before he wished he had something stronger than the whiskey from the store he had that sadly was only a step up from home-brewed moonshine….

Daryl sauntered into the classroom as if he didn't have a care in the world, hiding his apprehension. But there were no twitters or giggles like last time. Everyone was practically ignoring him and he breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that his classmates thankfully was none the wiser about what had gone down between him and Rogers.

He wasn't worried about Eric as he took his place beside him, ignoring his questioning look. Daryl knew he would stick to his side of the unspoken pact – namely that everything Daryl told him was for his ears only and that he wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone else.

Still, Daryl knew he wasn't out of the woods yet and he shivered, earning himself a concerned look from his friend because their math class – the first once since it happened - wasn't until that afternoon.

He was dreading it.

…

Eric wasn't as surprised as he pretended when his friend didn't want any lunch.

'You worried about maths?' He asked, effortlessly striking the nail on the head but trying to be subtle about it.

Daryl shrugged. 'Nah. Jus' ain't hungry.'

'I got ya back', Eric offered and Daryl smiled at him, touched despite himself.

'Thanks.' He replied a little uncertainty, resisting his natural urge to say he didn't need anyone to have his back.

'No worries.' Eric grinned back, thankfully pulling him out of the abyss of his dark thoughts and held his eye until Daryl got embarrassed and looked back down at his desk, forcing himself to bite back his tongue. Of course, he wanted to spit out that he was fine alone. That he could handle a pussy like Rogers but if he let himself think about how the bastard had lunged at him, the intimate places he'd touched him...He shivered, earning himself a concerned look from his friend because their math class - was up next.

…...

Maths was torture mostly thanks to Shane because Daryl didn't notice anything different about Rogers other than that he barely glanced at him and didn't ask him any questions. Or more importantly – didn't ask him to stay behind.

In other words, he acted like nothing had happened.

Nobody seemed to notice except for Shane – damn him - who hissed over with an exaggerated lift of the eyebrow – 'What? Not his favorite anymore? Did you forget to do your homework?' He crooned mockingly.

'Fuck off, Shane.' Daryl glared back. 'You pissed because he always asks you questions that you can't answer, dumbass?' He retorted.

'At least I'm not a teacher's pet!' The bigger boy spluttered in rage, face turning purple because he knew it was true.

Daryl grinned infuriatingly back at him and Eric followed suit. 'Better follow in your Daddy Sheriff's footsteps because he'll give you a job even if you are too dumb to get nothin' else.' He added laughingly.

'Why you...I don't want to be a cop! I fuckin' hate cops!' Shane hissed and half-got up to lunge at him - even in the middle of class. Daryl smirked and made a 'bring it on' gesture with his fingers.

'Why do you have to be so mean all the time? Leave it.' Andrea pulled Shane back from Daryl and smiled sweetly over at the Dixon. She glanced over at Rogers who was usually always so hot on classroom discipline but hadn't seemed to notice the loud dispute going on right under his nose.

Shane grumbled but did what she said at least for a while and Daryl zoned out and let the teacher's voice fade gradually as he fell into a sweet day dream about the blonde girl sitting to his far right. He'd always wondered why Shane often did what she told him. He was usually such a macho asshole otherwise.

Well, why wouldn't he play nice? She was gorgeous after all. A few months back, Daryl would have believed that he actually had a chance with her when she broke up with Shane temporarily.

Of course it never happened. He was just a rough redneck – even his heavy local accent gave him away. He was never going to be good enough for a city-girl like her.

Still, didn't mean he had to stop dreaming.

Shane quietened down for a while but as soon as the teacher turned his back again to write some algebra formulae on the blackboard, he started up again, unable to resist. He'd been watching his girlfriend's exchange with his nemesis with narrowed eyes.

He hadn't liked it one bit.

Not one bit.

'Is it because you ain't as tough as you make out?' He needled.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Daryl spat.

'Oh, just thinking out loud.'

'Must be painful for you. To think, I mean.' Daryl sneered.

If Shane had glanced a little to his left he would've seen his girlfriend hide a little smile behind her hand, but his focus was totally on Daryl. Therefore, he ignored the rude comment about his ability to think and continued,'Jus' wonderin' how the hell you get everyone stickin' up for you? Do they do it 'cause they feel sorry for a loser like you?'

'You're the only loser here. Get a life, will ya?' Eric grumbled.

'I don't need people sticking up for me, I can handle assholes like you just fine on by myself.' Daryl hissed back.

'Yeah, I can see that.' Shane hissed back sarcastically.

'Shut up, Shane.' Andrea nudged him under the table and offered an apologetic smile in Daryl's direction. 'Leave it.'

'Ha! And they keep sticking up for you!' He grinned at her, then at Daryl. 'Babe, come on, what do you see in him anyway?' He asked her and smirked when he saw how angry she was. 'I mean seriously – do you have any balls at all, Dixon?'

Daryl blushed and gave him the finger. 'I'll show them to you in the yard if ya want after I beat ya into the ground, Walsh. Remember last time?'

Shane leered at him with a dismissive shrug but he went pale first. 'Nah...I ain't interested. Ain't a pussy fag.'

'Nah, you're the one without balls.' Eric piped in. ''Cos ya ain't got the guts to fight him again after he beat you up in front of everybody.

'Jesus! That was ages ago!'

'Shut up, all of you.' Andrea said. 'I'm sick of this. ' She punched her boyfriend hard on the arm but he ignored her. 'I sometimes wonder why I'm with you when you're like this!' She exclaimed.

'Well then, why don't you go and be with him since you like him so much?' Shane replied coldly without looking at her.

Her eyes met Daryl's but he was the first to look away.

Shane smirked triumphantly then and leaned over confidentially towards the slightly uncomfortable Eric and the bristling Dixon who were currently speechless with rage and his friend. Daryl was gripping the edge of his desk so hard that his knuckles were white and Eric was getting ready to stop a fight breaking out.

'What's going on back there?' The teacher barked without warning, his voice raised slightly in irritation. But he wasn't looking at them as he continued; 'Shane, Eric and Andrea – see me at the end, please. Now, can we just get on with class?'

Daryl found himself staring at the high-school educator's back even though he had been determined to completely ignore him. He blinked, unable to believe it – why hadn't Rogers included him? He'd told himself that he wanted the creep to stay away from him and now that he was he was suddenly left with an empty feeling in his chest. Daryl frowned, confused at his own conflicting emotions. He hated Rogers!

Roger's omission didn't go unnoticed by his arch-enemy either. They sat in a tense silence until the teacher turned his back again to write on the blackboard. Apparently, Shane thought that the man had also lost his hearing while turning his back to them.

'Go on, you can tell me.' His voice turned low and coaxing. 'Why's he ignorin' you? You used to suck up to him... did you accidently bite his dick or something while you were working hard to get those grades?'

Daryl was once again rendered speechless in a mixture of rage and disbelief as well as shame which he could feel burning his cheeks.

That jibe was low, even coming from Shane who he expected almost anything from. It was the worst thing anyone could have said to him and trust Walsh to say it. He would have lunged at him then but his friend held him back.

'He ain't worth it – he's tryin' to get you to blow your top and get a detention.' Eric whispered to him.

Daryl forced himself to calm down. A detention with Rogers? That would be his worst nightmare. His mind whirled at the thought and he had to stop himself from showing his alarm.

A couple of chairs away from him, Andrea had been momentarily frozen at the vindictiveness of her boyfriend's verbal attack and now she nudged Shane with her elbow, unable to believe her ears.

She knew that he had a vicious side to him but she still couldn't quite believe that he'd said that to Daryl of all people even if they did hate each other's guts.

'You're disgusting, Shane. How could you say stuff like that when you know what…what...' Now she was blushing as hard as Daryl when she realized what she had been about to say and that Daryl had heard every word of it.

'Know what?' Daryl almost snapped at her, his nerves had been stretched to the limit by Shane and now there was a hint of menace in his voice.

He knew it was unfair from him as he was directing his fear and anger with Shane at her and he hated himself for it but he couldn't seem to make himself stop. Especially when she had been just sticking up for him. It was nice of her but it wasn't like Daryl had asked her to do so. Didn't she realise that it was embarrassing as hell for him and would only make Shane worse? Girls never did seem to get stuff like that.

Worse - now it had grown so quiet that you could hear a pin drop and that was when he realized to his horror that the whole classroom had fallen silent and was listening. Even Rogers – especially Rogers! Rogers who had been ignoring their loud dispute the whole time which wasn't like him at all when he must have heard them. Now the teacher looked like he was going to be sick before he slid a mask of detached professionalism over his face.

Even Shane now looked like he was regretting his words despite his smirk. Maybe he hadn't really intended to remind Daryl of Mike after all. Or humiliate him like that in front of everybody.

'I swear, if you don't shut the fuck up and stop talkin' shit, I really will bash ya head in the yard out there.' Daryl forgot all about his audience in his anger as he jabbed a finger towards the window and nearly got up to leave then. Nothing could make him stay in that classroom with them but he was interrupted.

'Hey, guys...' Eric whispered. 'He's comin' over and he looks real pissed.'

It was true, Rogers was stalking over to them and now Daryl really wanted to get out of there for real.

Torn between escape and looking like a coward, he decided to brave it out and glare and sneer at the teacher contemptuously as he reached their table but it turned out it wasn't necessary because Rogers insisted on stubbornly ignoring him. Still, frankly, it was hard for him not to pull his seat back when Rogers leaned over at them getting too close for his comfort. At first the teacher said nothing and settled on sternly making eye-contact with each of them except for Daryl.

'Last warning.' He told them. 'I don't know what the problem here is but I want it to stop RIGHT NOW, you hear?'

All of them nodded. 'Sorry, Sir.' Andrea even smiled up at him sweetly but Rogers wasn't charmed by her prettiness. After all, he wasn't the kind of guy who was susceptible to her feminine wiles.

Daryl wasn't the only one who breathed a sigh of relief when the angry teacher strode off. After that, they sat in uneasy silence throughout the rest of the class.

Daryl really wasn't worried about Rogers, especially as he was keeping his distance and not paying him any attention. Yet this didn't make him happy and paradoxically, he felt hurt by it.

When the bell finally rang, he made sure he was one of the first students to leave after the seemingly endless class was over hoping that the teacher wouldn't suddenly 'remember' he was one of the perpetrators and make him stay behind after all with - or worse - without the others.

As he approached the door, Rogers caught his eye and gave him a cautious glance of concern, and just like that Daryl's contempt and feelings of betrayal flared back up again at the older man's self- delusional hypocrisy.

Perve should be more worried about his job, Daryl thought furiously as he unwilingly approached the man. Rogers looked like he was about to say something just then, however, upon seeing the expression on the Dixon's face, he zipped his lips back up again.

Right at the last minute before he got out of there, however, Daryl looked him straight in the eye before he deliberately bumped the older man's shoulder just to show him that he didn't scare him. He heard gasps of shock behind them but ignored them.

Nobody touched a teacher.

He'd done it more to make a statement than anything else but also because he felt like he had to get some distance between them as they got closer even though he knew that the bastard wasn't stupid enough to try anything with everyone watching.

And if he was honest with himself, he probably wouldn't have dared to do it in the first place if Eric hadn't been directly behind him and literally 'had his back' just like he said would.

They hurried out the classroom as quickly as they could after that and Rogers didn't stop them even though Eric had been one of the students he wanted to talk to and Daryl had just majorly disrespected him in public.

'Shane! Andrea! I told you to stay behind.' Rogers barked at them - his voice was rough and his voice unnecessarily sharp.

The rest of the students gave each other shocked looks as they filed out while the boyfriend and girlfriend stayed behind. As soon as they were out in the yard, Eric high-fived him. 'That was awesome! Did you see the look on his face? Even Shane was impressed. Ain't never been anyone who ever did that to a teacher before, I bet! And he just let us go!'

'Yeah, well.' Daryl shrugged his shoulders, unimpressed. 'Had my reasons. 'Sides, you saw him ignore me the whole time.'

'Yeah. Let's hope he keeps on doing that. He'd be an idiot to hassle you again after how you showed him today. Best of all, he didn't tell you stay behind with us…Looks like he's scared shitless of you!'

'Good!' Daryl exclaimed but Eric could see that he wasn't feeling very happy or triumphant by the latest events to judge by his body language. His friend's shoulders were hunched and he wasn't looking at him when he spoke.

They went on their way in companionable silence until it was time for them to part ways at 'their' corner as Eric had grown used to thinking of it. The one with a gas-station lining the left side opposite the cornfield on the other.

'You OK?' Eric asked and jerked his head in the direction of where the Dixons lived.

Daryl understood that he wasn't just talking about his abusive dad and nodded.

Still, Eric touched his arm in concern before they parted. 'You sure ya gonna be OK goin' home? You've been kinda...'

Daryl shrugged away. 'What ya gettin' at?' He growled defensively.

'Sorry – didn't mean...' Eric knew he'd made a big mistake.

''Sides, Merle's back.'

'That's great.' Eric was genuinely relieved because he knew that Daryl's dad tended to hit him a lot less when his big brother was around.

'Well, then...' He stretched out his arms to hug him without thinking but Daryl frowned and neatly stepped round him.

Stupid prick! He berated himself. Eric wondered if he should have apologised again but realised that would only make a big deal out of nothing.

And make himself look like a dick.

'Yeah...' Daryl replied, looking unconvinced and barely glanced at him but stood there hopping from one foot to the other while he fidgeted at his clothes with his hands, looking nervous and uncomfortable.

'Well, see ya tomorrow, then.'

'Yeah. Tomorrow.' Eric watched him leave.

He should have remembered that the Dixons weren't affectionate with each other like he was with his family. Plus, when Daryl's dad was being a bastard and he was hurting, he naturally didn't want to be touched so those times Eric didn't even try.

But Daryl had begun to accept hugs from him – had even initiated one the other day. It was a real shame because Eric reckoned that his best friend was someone who could really do with them.

Eric watched his best friend slope away with a worried frown, praying that his dad wasn't drunk and that he'd be in a good mood for a change and not take his problems out on Daryl. He was often worried sick about him but even if he turned up bruised and battered he couldn't bring up his dad unless Daryl did first.

That went without saying.

But like Daryl had said, Merle was home.

….

Unknown to Eric, Daryl looked back over his shoulder before dragging his feet not for the first time when he continued on his way home. He just knew his father would pounce on him as soon as he got inside, demanding to know who had scared him and if he had tried again today.

At least his brother was there and he'd hinted at taking Daryl out some night this week or the next. Get him away from Dad and his constant questions... Naturally Merle wanted to know as well, but he wasn't as dogged in his questioning. From him it was tolerable because he had the sense to know when his brother had had enough of the questioning and he'd stop. Unlike Dad.

Unfortunately, Daryl had a feeling it would be like this until he caved in and gave them Roger's name but he didn't want Merle to do what he'd done to Mike to Carl.

True, the fucker had attacked him, scared him badly and betrayed him but he wasn't like that sick sack of shit -he'd eventually stopped when he'd been told to. Had even apologized... but not before groping him. More than that, he'd also promised never to do it again, but then again, he was probably only thinking about his job and Daryl didn't necessarily trust him if he found himself alone with him in a classroom together.

Rogers was still a disgusting human being – a pervert and a queer to boot, but Daryl didn't think he deserved to die.

Sure, he deserved some pain and to be scared just like he'd made Daryl and for someone to make sure he didn't do it to anyone else ever again... but surely he didn't deserve the things his big brother would do to him. Daryl also recalled his hurt when Rogers had passed over him - down right ignored him actually, and he didn't know why he'd been upset and not relieved that the creep was staying away.

He figured out that it was because he used to like him and their after-class chats. The man used to make him feel better about himself at one time and tell him that he was smart and could go far if he worked hard. Daryl wondered how much of it was true and heartfelt, and how much of what he said was just because the creep wanted to get into his pants.

Surely everything couldn't be pretend after all and the way he'd looked at him before Daryl had shoved his shoulder into him told Daryl otherwise. It had been a look of genuine concern – not anger or accusation but concern. Rogers was still pondlife in Daryl's book but he guessed that he owed the teacher something at least because before he turned into an A- list psycho, he had helped and listened to him. Not that Daryl had ever told him bout his dad's violence – simply because he didn't need to, it being common knowledge. Besides, Rogers knew who'd painted his face in different colours every time he walked in after his dad had used him to blow off some steam.

Daryl found it a welcome change to talk and focus on other stuff rather than the hell he was living in. Like his hopes and dreams. Like getting out of the shithole he'd grown up in and making something of himself.


	29. Assumptions: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the promised second chapter! Thanks again for waiting for so long.
> 
> Remember: reviews are love, give it to us!

…..

Will was wired up all that day, waiting for his youngest son to come back from school. To him, it seemed the day was never-ending. Meanwhile his fear and anxiety for him continued to build.

So, when he heard footsteps on the gravel outside he was leapt to his feet.

'Daryl?' He shouted out into the hall.

'No, it's me, Merle.'

'Come in, son. Must have fallen asleep. What you been up to?' Will tried to hide his disappointment.

'This and that.' His eyes darted evasively away and the father guessed he'd been with some girl or another or girls. At least he didn't look drugged up or loaded.

'What's the time?'

Merle glanced at his watch and told him.

'Daryl should be home soon. Where the hell is he?'

Merle nodded, both of them feeling tense, the unspoken question hanging heavy between them.

Will could stand it no longer and got up and pulled the net curtain aside to look out of the window. Still no sign of him. He hoped that he wasn't hurt.

'He tell you anythin'?'

'Nah.'

'I swear, if he's so much as laid a finger on him...' Will growled. 'Look, can you try to ask him again? He'll tell you.'

'Calm down, Dad. Probably nothin's happened…The creep would be a fool to... Let's just see what he's got to say for himself when he comes back.'

'If that's true, then why ain't he back yet?' The father paced anxiously to and fro.

'He's only 5 minutes late…give him time.'

'Go get me a whiskey. Pour yourself one while ya at it.'

'Ya sure?' Merle was incredulous before he ran out to the kitchen. Their father rarely invited him to share and when he'd stolen from him – he'd noticed every time.

And punished him accordingly.

Just when Merle was about to refill their glasses, he spotted his brother walking down the road towards their house through the dirty window.

Fifteen minutes late.

'Dad, Daryl's comin'!'

Will leapt up again from his armchair but he was a little calmer now. 'He look OK to you?'

'Seems to be.

Will breathed a sigh of relief. 'Tell 'im to get in here!'

Merle was there to greet his brother before he had time to open the door himself.

'Everythin' OK?' He asked.

'Yeah.'

'That you, Daryl? Come in here, son.'

'He's really worried about you.' Merle told him a low voice.

'Yeah, I know. Dad?' His brother rolled his eyes and sighed heavily as he started walking reluctantly towards the living room.

'How was school? Any trouble?'

Daryl could tell that his dad was pretty sober – for him anyway - he'd had enough experience gauging his father's moods and being able to tell when he was just drunk or when he was angry drunk and therefore dangerous. Still, he felt safer with Merle there, no matter what mood his father was in, even though his brother was currently handing their father a half full glass of whiskey.

Daryl knew what he was getting at. 'No, Dad.'

'Yeah? Ya sure about that?' He spat out irritably.

'Dad, don't start.' Merle muttered as he took in Daryl giving their father a tired look. 'He said there wasn't so leave it, OK?'

'Well, can ya fucking blame me, boy?' Will was starting to slur.

They both must have underestimated how much he'd been drinking when they weren't there.

Before Merle could react, his father raised his glass to his lips and downed everything in it. 'You got money, Merle? Go get me something stronger to drink other than this shit here from the store and buy us some dinner. Somethin' decent.'

The older brother was immediately suspicious. 'Why? You gonna grill him some more while I'm gone, that it?'

'I need to talk to him. Make sure he's OK.'

'Dad..Told you nothin' happened!' Daryl protested. He was getting sick of them talking about him like he wasn't there and although he didn't think his dad was going to hurt him today, he didn't want to be interrogated again. 'Can't I go with him?'

'No. Told you to stay here!' Will barked and Daryl flinched back, moving towards his brother unconsciously.

'Think I'm leavin' him alone with you in this state?' Merle yelled back, pulling Daryl against him protectively. Will frowned. 'You're drunk!'

'Give the boy a prize for figuring that one out.'

'I'll go and get your stinking booze and food but he's goin' with me!'

'Merle…' Daryl tried to shake him off. 'It's OK.' He didn't want them to fight – when they did, it always seemed to be over him.

'Let him go. I won't harm him.' Will sighed. 'Come here, boy. I didn't mean to yell at you just now. I'm just so angry …'

'Merle, it's OK.' Daryl told his brother and went over to their dad willingly.

Merle looked back, checking them over and when he saw their father draw Daryl gently to him, the worry uncoiled itself from his chest. He could see Will wasn't in a violent mood and even though he was full of rage, none of it was directed at his little brother.

'I won't be long, though. Don't you be trying to get his name out of him and upsetting him while I'm gone.'

'Don't worry. We're jus' gonna have a little chat is all – father and son.'

Their dad smiled toothily then, and Merle knew he would probably ask Daryl at least once, that was just the way he was wired. Truth was, Merle didn't really blame him either, he wanted to know just as badly so that he would be able to beat the shit out of the creep, but he also could tell how much them hassling him irritated Daryl. There was that, and that he also knew better than to say no when his father told him to do something despite his bluster. But when Daryl shrugged his shoulders giving his brother the final go ahead to leave, Merle was out of the door like the wind.

….

Meanwhile Will's worry continued to build and as soon as it shut behind his eldest, he immediately started by motioning Daryl to stand in front of him.

'What happened today?' He demanded just as Daryl knew he would.

'Nothin', Dad. I swear!'

The older Dixon humpfed unconvincingly.

'Did you have class with him?'

'What? With who?' The boy was playing dumb Will knew that, making his eyes go all big and innocent but under them were dark circles. His kid looked exhausted.

'Who do ya think? Don't lie to me, son! Flutterin' those pretty, big blue eyes at me ain't gonna get ya nowhere!' He couldn't stop his voice from rising.

Naturally, he was confused and frowned down at his father. No more than Will himself wondering where those words had come from.  
Oh, but Will knew.

He knew.

But he didn't dwell on the thought even as he wished he could take them all back.

'Tell me who it was so that I can cut his dick off already!' He snapped in frustration and before he knew what he was doing, he yanked Daryl's arm so hard that he landed ass end up on the sofa. 'Ya want him to do it to more boys like you?'

'Dad...It weren't anyone we know...It was just some asshole who jumped me from behind when I was on my way home from school...But I fought him off!' He protested as he tried to right himself but Will interrupted him.

Only thinkin' of ya...want to protect ya!'

'How many times do I need to tell you that nothin' happened? I dealt with it!' Now his son's voice was rising in frustration in turn.

Dad scoffed. 'If nothin' happened, then how could you deal with it?'

Daryl was stumped and inwardly swore at his own bad choice of words. His dad was smart and knew how to tie him up with them.

'It don't matter no more. Just leave it!'

'Don't you give me that shit. You were screamin' in ya sleep about him last night, whoever he was and you were so out of it you were telling me to get off ya!' He grabbed his son's shoulders and shook him roughly. 'And don't tell me that it was nothing, when you came home that day, you were crawlin' out of your own skin!'

'Bastard's scared of me now! Won't even look at me.'

Will smiled as his son didn't even realise his second mistake as he pulled away from him. Will let him go because now the Dixon was finally emerging from his son. He had to hide the smile that was threatening to appear on his lips despite everything even as he gently but relentlessly tightened the net around him.

'Won't even look at you anymore, huh?'

'Look, it ain't like I'm ever gonna see him again.' His son lied.

'So you did know him, then?'

Daryl looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights, caught in his own half-truths. 'No...but...I mean, yeah - kinda but...'

Will tugged him to him by his arms and brought them almost nose to nose as he forced Daryl to look him in the eye. His son squirmed, clearly uncomfortable with this level of scrutiny because of what usually happened when Will caught him out telling lies...

But luckily for him, his dad seemed amused by his spluttering half-lies. He reasoned it was probably the prospect of good food and good booze when Merle got back that was mellowing him out.

'I mean I caught him lookin' at me before. Like across the street...gave me the jeepers. But he don't live here...He's jus' passin' through...Spotted him a few weeks ago the first time. Never bothered me before...'

'Hmmm,' Will pretended to believe him when he wasn't convinced. Not by a long chalk. 'But tell me this at least. Ya still scared he'll come back to get everythin' he didn't get the first time?'

Daryl's slight recoil didn't escape his father before he watched him quickly recover himself.

'No! As if.' He sneered. 'I'll be ready and waitin' for him. But something in his body-language was betraying him despite his attitude.

'It's OK.' Will quickly pulled Daryl closer before he could protest. 'It's OK. I'm sorry I got angry with you.' His voice was soft and soothing.

'He's nothin' – tellin' ya, he's a coward really.'

'That you think he's a coward doesn't really matter though, son. Creeps like him always try their luck at least twice.'

'Keep tellin' ya not to worry about it, dad! I told him he better shift his worthless ass right out of town if he don't want me to kick it again! He's movin' on and ain't ever comin' back if he knows what's best for him!' Daryl's eyes flashed with anger and he wasn't putting on a complete act when he recalled how he'd stood up to Rogers.

Will smiled back in relief, finally convinced by his words. 'That's my son.' He tussled his hair fondly. 'Ya a Dixon. Don't take no shit from no one.'

Daryl looked at him and shook his head, feeling quite pleased when his father finally seemed satisfied with his story.

Will brushed his hair back before he finally released him by giving him a little playful jab with his fist to his ribs. 'Why don't you go and find Merle down at the store and help him choose that smooth brandy I like? You know the expensive one that's like honey when it slips down your throat that I get when we got the money? And make sure he gets food that goes together – damn fool boy don't know a thing about cookin'!'

They shared a laugh at that, and Will watched his son's back disappear through the door. He heard him pull the front door gently to and not long after, he shut his eyes and fell into a restless sleep.

...

Will woke up, rubbing his eyes blearily and decided to go upstairs. His sons could cook their meal and wake him up when it was ready. Besides, his back wouldn't thank him if he made falling asleep on the couch a habit.

Then he heard his boys talking outside his bedroom – he hadn't heard them come in. So, they aren't hungry either, - even Merle ain't, he thought to himself. He didn't bother to listen at first as he crawled into his bed – his only desire to close his eyes and sleep, hoping Merle would get the truth out of his incredibly stubborn little brother. He had a way with Daryl that no one else had and if anyone could get him to open up about what had happened to him, it would be him.

This thought drove his drowsiness away in a hurry and he opened his eyes to listen, wide awake now. The boy was in his big brother's room and they had left the door open. There was no great distance from Merle's room to Will's so with the open door, he had no trouble hearing what they were saying. Especially since they weren't trying to keep their voices down or at least Merle wasn't.

'He did WHAT?' Merle roared.

This was it. He would find out the truth now. Will got up and went to stand behind the door to peek. He couldn't see much though.

'It weren't like I told Dad... It didn't happen on the way home from school and I didn't fight him off. Plus - he did a whole lot more than I said.'

'Ya don't say,' Will thought sourly to himself. He hadn't bought the story that it wasn't someone local who had just jumped him – boy was too shaken up for something like that. Anyway, who would come to a shithole backwater like where they lived? Now I'll get to the truth, Will thought to himself with relief.

'Daryl...It's OK. Dad and me won't let him hurt ya again...'

While Will was wrapped up in his own thoughts, Daryl had apparently started to cry. Now he could hardly get a word out between sobs that were pure torture for Will to listen to especially when he couldn't do a thing about them. Because if he did he would blow his cover and then would probably never find out what had happened. Therefore, he held back and forced himself to listen.  
Yet, Daryl was so incoherent that Will couldn't make out his answer so instead, he continued to watch them while they were apparently oblivious to his presence.

'Hush now...Don't cry.' Merle probably had an arm about his shoulder.

Will frowned.

'But I...I...I liked it. Some of it anyway.' Daryl forced the words out painfully. 'Do you think I'm disgustin' now, Merle? You hate me, don't ya?'

'Don't talk shit. Ya didn't. He made you. Forced you.'

'Forced me to like it?' He cried incredulously in pain.

Will didn't take his words immediately and what they meant as he imagined him turning up his sad big blue eyes to his big brother, probably tearing up again. He'd been through such a lot and was still so fragile no matter how brave he was or how much of a convincing tough act he put on.

'And...and...' Will could just see him blush and look down at his body...'He was touchin' me...I didn't want him to at first but then I started to feel funny...I...started to...to like it.' He finished helplessly.

Will swayed on his feet, feeling sick. Liked it? LIKED it? His sweet son clearly was a queer! Although he guessed he'd known all along but now it was confirmed.

His heart sank down into his shoes.

'You didn't like it. 'Cos when someone touches those parts of ya body...it don't matter who it is, um...those parts get excited, um...ya know? Even if ya don't want ...um...them to and ya can't do a thing to stop it. Ya body can um...can want it even if ya mind don't... And then past a certain point...'

Despite his shock at Daryl's revelation Will sniggered at Merle's awkward attempt to give his younger sibling sex ed. in which he always claimed to be such an expert. More than that, it wasn't like him to get tongue-tied when talking about his favorite subject but he did whenever it came to his baby brother.

'Really?' Daryl didn't know any of this and his father's heart skipped a beat in sympathy as it came to him then that Daryl didn't fully understand what had just happened to him.

Not by a long shot.

'Who was it?'

'Not this again! You sound jus' like Dad. Already told ya both I ain't telling ya! You don't know him! No point anyway - it's over.'

'Jus' tell us – was it a teacher? It was, wasn't it?

Daryl fell silent and Will took this as 'yes'.

'Was it..?' Merle's loud voice turned into a whisper. Will clenched his fists and growled in frustration when he couldn't hear the name.

'Yeah – it was.'

'I knew it! And I did know him – he was my teacher too, remember? Always gave me the creeps but now I know why...'

'But don't tell dad, I told ya. It ain't like he fucked me or nothin'.'

Will winced and drew in a painful breath sharply. Daryl sounded like his older brother when he spoke like that.

'But ya told me he did...'

'Not really. He...He didn't put it in.' He finished awkwardly.

'Yeah, but he might next time.'

'Said he was gonna save that for later when I was ready.'

Merle spluttered in outraged disgust. 'Jesus, like you were ever gonna be ready! What a freak! Did ya tell him to stop?'

Daryl paused and answered hesitantly. 'Yeah...'

'And did he?'

'No, never.'

Will heard Merle hiss, no doubt thinking longingly about the hunting-knife in his sock drawer that Will knew was there, hidden under his dirty magazines. He'd seen it when he'd gone snooping, looking for drugs in his bedroom.

'How many times did ya tell him to stop?'

''Why the fuck does it matter, Merle?' Will heard him sigh resignedly, sounding decades older than his years.

'Daryl!' Merle pressed on.

'Loads of times. But Merle...He jus' ignored me and kept right on. That's just it though, I don't think I really wanted him to stop. He kept tellin' me that too - that I didn't mean it and that he was gonna make me like it.'

'No...Sh...sh...baby', Will groaned, feeling sickened. It was Mike all over again but apparently, this particular pervert had a different modus operandi.

'What exactly did he do?'

'Merle, I don't want to talk about it, OK?'

'Didn't take it slow with ya, did he?'

''The point is I didn't want to stop. The more we did stuff...I mean I did...but he...he...when he touched me...down...down...there...it – I mean my body liked it but I didn't! I swear!'

Will gasped out loud and his rage swung back to his teenage son now. Had he raised a little slut who couldn't say no?

Daryl broke down again just then and Will was no longer completely sure in his suspicions when he heard him sobbing piteously and his hands itched to comfort him – another U-turn in his emotions. It was clear to him that his youngest son didn't have the words or the experience to express the confusing and very painful thing that had happened to him. Or his own conflicting feelings about it.

Will groaned and closed his eyes, imagining it and his sympathy turned into something...well, into something else. His son was still a virgin at least that left him all for him. He felt a throb of desire and felt sick that it was for his own flesh and blood. More worryingly, as he grew more excited, Daryl's weeping put him off less than it should have done.

'Sick fuck!' Merle was naturally indignant, thankfully his yell put an end to Will's thoughts that disgusted him and put his own rage into words. Yet Will startled at first, momentarily thinking his older son was addressing him. Of course, if he could have read his father's mind right then, Merle would have been within his rights to do so.

Would have been well in his rights to take a shotgun and shoot him in the head whether he'd touched Daryl or not. Will had to face facts.

'When I'm through with him, fucker'll wish he was dead! But I'll never let him die!', Merle finished in rage.

Out in the hall Will cursed a second time because they still hadn't divulged said 'fucker's' name out loud so that he could hear it.

'Don't, Merle – You don't wanna kill an innocent man, do ya?'

'Innocent...' Merle muttered in utter disgust.

'He never hurt me, not really!'

'Not REALLY?'

'Merle...Does all this make me a fag?' Daryl pleaded heartbrokenly.

'What? No! The fuck of a teacher messed with ya head, that's all!'

Will clenched his fist and growled quietly at his suspicions being confirmed but he hadn't had no fuckin' clue that Daryl liked it. Just like that - his face darkened right along with his mood and that's when they noticed him standing outside the door watching them.

'Dad...Ain't what ya think...' Daryl went scarlet and tried to explain.

'Why, you little whore!' Will lunged at him but Merle got in between them and shoved him away.

'Leave him alone, dad. Ain't his fault – he's jus' a kid. Creep's been messin' with his head!'

That's when Will noticed how Daryl was still so small compared to Merle. Not only was he finer-boned than either of them but his head only came up to his shoulder. The thought of a grown man trying to touch him like that made the father's blood boil in his veins. Yet, Will recalled how Daryl had fought bigger boys than him like Shane Walsh, for example and won.

'Ain't possible.' Will retorted furiously. 'Cos didn't I just hear him say he liked it? You a little fuckin' queer?' Will snarled over at Daryl who was quick to draw back a few inches.

'Dad! Stop it!' Merle tried to calm him down but their father refused to listen.

'You flirted with him, fluttered those long eyelashes at him and gave him ideas from the back of the classroom, that how it went?'

'What ya sayin? Have you gone fuckin' crazy?' Merle was staring at him like he didn't know him anymore.

Daryl shook his head and seemed to revert a few years in age by clinging to the back of his big brother's shirt and hiding behind him. Merle stretched out his arm to shield him and something about that enraged Will further and he forgot what he'd been through. Forgot his own promise to never to hurt Daryl again - it was gone in an instant as if Will had just snapped his fingers.

Well, I already failed miserably several times in that but Merle don't know that.

'Back off, dad! Keep tellin' ya it ain't his fault! He's jus' confused, is all. Bastard's brainwashed him! I bet all of this started with that fucker Mike, remember Mike, dad? Your best friend?' Merle snarled back sarcastically. 'What a great friend, Dad. You let him into our house. Let him near us...and didn't see nothin'.' He shook his head with a big, sarcastic grin all over his face and clapped slowly.

'Merle, what the hell ya doin'?' Daryl hissed.

Even the mention of his former best friend's name did nothing to stop Will.

'Don't you sass me, boy! He weren't like that in the beginning, I know he weren't. What about you? Ya were always goin' over to his house, even left your brother alone with him all those times you needed to screw ya whores or get high out of ya head. Don't think Mike didn't tell me.'

'Don't give me that shit! He was ya best friend! We were kids! Besides, you know him better than I do.'

'Let me remind you that you ain't too old either for a whippin!' Even though this wasn't aimed directly at him, Daryl flinched and cowered back further behind his brother.

'It ain't his fault, dad! They made him confused!'

'Then it's about time I cleared things up for him, don't you think?' Will started unbuckling his belt while Daryl's eyes grew wide with fear and he clung tighter to Merle for protection.

But Merle shook him off and advanced on his father, leaving his baby brother bereft against the wall. 'You fuckin' touch him and I'll kill you! It's all your fault anyway – Things wouldn't have come to this - him thinking that he's a fag if you had stopped Mike in the first place and not waited until he nearly fucked him because you were gettin' off on listenin' to them.'

Will faltered and at his father's mortified expression, he added, 'That's what you were doin', weren't ya, Dad? Who's the pervert now?' Merle looked at him as if he was a piece of dog-shit he was about to scrape off his shoe reminding Will of the way he'd looked down at Mike before he dragged him off.

Will stopped in his tracks, too shocked at first to deny it. He thought no one knew – how could they? 'How did ya know ...' slipped out before he could stop it.

Then, with some of his old fury and indignation, 'What the hell did ya jus' say to me, BOY?'

'I said: Who's the pervert now?' His oldest son was challenging him, his expression full of scorn and defiance.

'What ya sayin', Merle?' The younger boy's voice cracked with pain at the betrayal as he rounded horrified on his father, 'You knew and let him...let him…'

'Daryl...Sh...Listen...' Will tried to hush him, his anger forgotten as his belt hung loosely from his pants.

Merle nodded, for once in his life, stone-sober and fully alert. 'Yep, he did. 'Cos he's been lookin' at ya in a way he has no fuckin' business doing. He's jus' like Mike and that teacher – no, in fact he's worse – 'cos he's your father.'

He let out a sob of horror in reply and moved forward to duck his head and bury it in Merle's side for comfort as if even looking at their father was too much for him. Will couldn't blame him as he watched Merle put a protective arm around his shoulders.

'Merle that ain't true…Daryl, don't listen to him! I'd never hurt you! You know that, boy!'

Daryl ignored him and didn't even raise his head at the sound of his voice.

'Does he? He's got fuckin' scars all over his body that disagree, besides, you just threatened to whip him.' Merle felt Daryl wordlessly flinch against him and tightened his hold on him. 'How can you say that you wouldn't hurt him in the same fucking breath?'

'I meant hurt him in that way! Anyway, I wasn't going to...only meant to scare him a little.'

'Yeah? Ya sure could've fooled me jus' now. But not ya shooting those filthy looks of yours at him, not to mention slipping into his room most nights when he's asleep!'

Will clenched his fists at his sides, but other than that he was left speechless. He opened his mouth to speak but his eldest son cut him off before he had the chance.

'What? Ya think I don't know? What do ya do to him while you two are alone in there, huh?'

Daryl let out a whimper of shock just then and curled himself even closer into his big brother's body.

'Hush now, it's OK. I won't let him near you.' His brother squeezed his shoulders before he rounded on their father again.

'I jus' go in there to comfort him, that's all! You know he has nightmares! How dare you accuse me of doin' that! I lost my best friend because he…he…!' Will couldn't even bring himself to finish the sentence, instead he started forward – ready to fly at Merle who dared to talk to him this way and teach him a lesson. But he hesitated because Merle wasn't a little boy anymore, but a grown man, hence the open expression of mocking scorn on his face.

Merle noticed him faltering and sneered at him, unintimidated. 'Too bad that I've got eyes and ears, huh, dad? You're just a creep like his teacher! Yeah – you ordered me to take care of Mike for the very same reason – maybe I should take care of you too, huh, Dad?' He spat at him, his eyes blazing.

'That's different! I ain't never done anythin' to him - not like that fucker did!... I wouldn't!'

'But you want to, don't you? See it in your eyes. Surprised he didn't, too.'

Daryl let out another sound of distress and Merle stroked his hair while he glared at their father balefully.

Will felt like his world was colliding when Merle's furious eyes met his before he looked at his youngest son who had pulled his head out away from his big brother and stared at him also, with a mixture of disgust, fear and betrayal on his face before he turned away and hugged his big brother close.

That was when Will woke up. It took him a while to realise none of it was real and that they didn't know if it had been a teacher trying his luck with his son or not. Not for sure. And he didn't know if he should feel relieved or frustrated.

The last impression from the dream to leave him was the look on his youngest's face like he didn't love him anymore. Daryl had never looked at him like that – not once – no matter what he'd done to him.

Will's heart was thudding in his chest and he was sweating pints it seemed. Still not yet sure whether it had really happened, he tried to shake off the nightmare as he made his way to the kitchen to get something to eat. …Yet he soon lost his appetite and changed his mind and went upstairs instead to check the bedrooms to make sure that he really wasn't dreaming.

They were empty and Will breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Of course, they had gone to the shop to buy food to cook for dinner. How long have I been asleep? Couldn't have been that long.

Then right on cue, he heard his son's excited voices before the door opened with a bang.

He had no idea about the time but it must be dinner time.

'Dad!' He heard Merle call out happily. 'We got everythin' you wanted!'

'Well, bring it into the kitchen. You got the brandy?'

…...

The next day was pretty much the same with them trying not to worry about Daryl after he left for school. Will had been restless since he woke up from the nightmare and had laid out all of the knives in their possession on the kitchen table in order, waiting for their turn to be sharpened. When their father did this, his sons knew that something was troubling him.

It used to mean that they were going to be used on them.

But not today.

Yet seeing his dad working away at that big knife over got Merle thinking. He knew that sharpening knives also was a way of making himself feel better. He was more in control afterwards.

'Damn it, he's so stubborn. Why can't he just spit it out?'

'Who's he got that from, ya think? Anyway, he knows what happened to the last bastard who touched him like that...knowing him, he probably feels sorry for him or somethin'.'

Will hid a wince before he blurted out, 'Well, then – he's an idiot! And too soft with it, too!'

'Look, dad, keep this up and he'll never tell us. He said he's dealt with it and there's no problem now, but I don't believe him no more than you do. And I want to find out who he is just as much as you do - but I think we should let up asking him. Unless somethin' else happens...'

'But we still ain't got the bastard's name...' Will was starting to slur. 'Ya gotta send the pervert a message, Merle.'

Merle stifled a sigh at the familiarity of all this and the fact that it was pretty clear that his dad hadn't heard one word he said. Still, he knew it was in his best interest to answer, 'I will when we know for sure.'

'Good boy.'

Merle beamed when he heard his dad call him that again when he'd rarely received a word of praise from him growing up. He thought that maybe he'd finally got his respect when he punished Mike for him.

'Dad, I'll take him out tomorrow and get him to tell me.'

Will grunted but seemed pleased with this idea.

Even though he couldn't be sure of who the pervert was who had messed with his brother he had a pretty good idea of where to start. The fact that it happened at school was obvious, whatever Daryl told their father. Merle knew he'd just said whatever to get him off his back. Merle also knew that it was also unlikely that another boy Daryl's age or older had done it. Daryl would mop the floor with anyone who tried to do anything he didn't like.

…

Later that day, Merle decided it was time, Daryl and their dad was sitting in the sofa watching a game of baseball on TV as he walked in.

'Dad, like I said – I promised to take Daryl out...ya know, jus' the two of us. Shoot shit and buy things...He needs some new stuff to wear.'

Daryl could have kissed his big brother just then for intervening. Although his father had eased up a little on his own private investigation, Daryl could still feel his eyes on him waiting for an answer.

He didn't think he could face another evening of overprotective and demanding dad.

Daryl smiled over at Merle gratefully.

'Merle, we ain't exactly swimming in money if you ain't noticed.'

Merle looked him up and down, shaking his head at Daryl's old clothes. 'Dad – look he needs some new clothes. I know ya ain't got the money...It'll be my treat.'

'Thanks.' Daryl whispered gratefully and looked up at his big brother with big eyes full near to adoration.

Merle grinned and chucked him under chin. 'Come on, kiddo. Let's go.'

Will let them go with a dismissive shake of his hand. 'Go then. But make sure you don't keep him out all night.'

They took that as their cue to leave.

…...

'Ya enjoyin' yaself, little brother?' Merle asked with a grin while they were drinking their beers before their burgers came. He didn't care that Daryl was under-age – he would keep his promise to their father and take good care of him and not let him get too drunk.

But he also needed him relaxed for his own reasons.

They'd been shopping and Merle had bought him a trendy black leather biker's jacket punk-style complete with hanging silver chains, jeans and shirts to replace his worn-out gear. Daryl loved everything he was given, his big brother always had seriously good taste.

'Of course, I'm happy, Merle. You didn't need to spend all ya money and buy me all this stuff. I love it!'

'You deserve everything you got. Don't you ever forget that.' You deserve to be happy after all the shit you've been through, he added silently to himself.

'Whatever you say, Merle.' He grabbed his burger and started to eat as Merle took a swig of his beer, thinking about the best way to ask the million dollar question. When he couldn't think of anything, he settled on the less subtle: 'Seriously, what happened to ya?'

Daryl lowered the burger that had been halfway to his mouth, frowned at Merle and fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat in their booth.

'Nothin'. Dad's got it wrong and made a big deal out of it, as usual.'

Merle was thoughtful and looked down at the table for a moment deciding to leave his brother alone for the time being. Judging by the way Daryl looked at him every now and then since he popped the question, it would only freak him out to keep on at him. Besides, he didn't want to ruin things, not when they were having such a good time.

After a while of small talk of Daryl telling him about his best friend Eric and his arch-enemy Shane being an obnoxious ass, plus his unrequited love for Andrea, Merle tried to ambush him with more beer and generosity.

Daryl grew tense again and clenched his fists. 'Jesus! I already said I'm sick of talkin' about it! Jus' wanna forget and move on. Like I told ya both a million times before; I dealt with it myself and I ain't gonna let ya do anythin' to him like you did Mi…' Daryl almost shouted and Merle reached over and clamped his hand over his mouth, shoving him hard enough so that his head met the wall behind him.

'Keep ya fuckin' voice down!' He hissed at his brother as he cautiously looked round casting a fleeting look through the gap in the saloon doors too for good measure. Most of the people weren't locals. Or at least no one who knew him.

Merle sighed with relief and released Daryl.

'Ow!' His brother rubbed the back of his head and glared back at him.

'Sorry, but you shouldn't go around sayin' stuff like that in public. Never know who's listenin.'

'Nobody cares, Merle!' Daryl snapped.

It was true, the people in their village all knew about Mike and most of them accepted the fact that he had just vanished. Didn't ask any questions - well, except his buddies who were also their dad's buddies. They'd been around since, but Mike never got mentioned, not in their house anyway. It was like Will had made them all sign a contract of eternal silence. But then again, they'd been there and it was unlikely that they had any sympathy for him no matter his fate.

Daryl would sometimes imagine what his brother had done to him, especially when he recalled how he had just vanished like that. The fact that he didn't know if he was alive or dead was the worst. It left too much to the imagination and when his kicked in, especially in the small hours of the night, he would shiver. Part of him thought he should hate Merle because after all, he had loved Uncle Mikey with all his heart once. Or that he should be shocked or afraid of him if he let himself ponder on what his brother was capable of. He would even wonder if he had taken pleasure in it because he knew very well that Merle could be like a rabid dog when it came to protecting him.

Daryl forced himself to stop thinking about it and painting Merle like that in his head because during the day, Merle was just Merle. His playful, sometimes patronizing, teasing, generous, often drunk, less often stoned but always protective – big brother.

When he was there, that was.

In any case, no matter what way he looked at it, Daryl found that he couldn't blame Merle. In fact, he was grateful to him because if Merle hadn't got rid of Mike for him, he would still be living his life looking over his shoulder every time he went outside.

Besides, if it had been the other way round... especially if it was his little sister…what would he have done to a man like Mike?

He snapped out of his reverie when his brother looked at him expectantly.

What the hell, Merle! I'm sick of you and dad hasslin' me! Thought you were takin' me out for a good time but it sure looks like all ya wanted to do was to get me drunk just so that you could get his name out of me.'

'No, you snot-nosed little idiot... I just thought I could get you to open up while dad's not around.'

'Well, you can forget it, OK? I ain't ever tellin' you who it was, never! It's over, dealt with, finished!'

'To tell ya the truth, I knew you wouldn't tell me.' Merle replied calmly. 'And it's OK. Won't ask no more, promise. Come on, drink up.' But in reality, Merle was thinking differently: Daryl won't have to tell me because I'll find out by myself.

Daryl's face had been scrunched up with stubborn determination but then he felt guilty. Merle loved him, spoilt him rotten and here he was being rude. He was being ungrateful.

'Merle...' He started. 'I'm sorry...'

'Don't be.' His brother grinned back easily at him and Daryl saw he wasn't pissed off. 'Come on, finish that beer and I'll get ya another one. And why don't ya throw that old rag you're wearing away and let me see ya put on that new jacket I bought ya?'

'Sure, Merle.' Daryl beamed, relieved that things were alright between them as he eagerly did what he suggested. 'Thanks'.

It didn't take Daryl long in his eagerness to remove his old jacket to replace it with the new one. He felt better almost immediately.

'You look cool as ice with that jacket bro...that girl you're sweet on would be a fool not to date you!'

'Yeah! Imagine the look on Shane's face if she dumped him for me!'

They both laughed at that and Merle ruffled his hair.

More beers came and Daryl drank his carefully, slowly while Merle finished his in 5 or 6 huge gulps. He was already thinking about getting something stronger – beer barely hit the spot these days.

Merle narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice as he became serious and asked the second difficult question. 'Now tell me about Dad. He hit you while I was away? Tell me the truth.'

'No, Merle.' Daryl smiled adoringly up at him as he lied guilelessly. He'd turned protecting his father into an art form. 'He ain't hit me since ya left – in fact, he's been real good to me.'

Merle nodded. After all it was easier to believe a lie that you wanted to.

Merle didn't ask his brother again about what had happened when he saw how much their father's bugging him got to him, it was understandable.

Besides, he owed it to his little brother to just let him have a nice time out, forget everything for a while and just be. When they finally left the burger joint, Merle couldn't hold back a bark of laughter once they stumbled out well into the night, recalling his father's command not to keep Daryl out too late. He could just picture their father shaking his fists at them when they got home. When Merle told his brother about this image, Daryl joined in with his laughter, clutching everything he'd been given that day aside from two bags that Merle insisted on grabbing from him. He said that he looked too much like one of his girls whenever she got back from a shopping-spree.

They arrived to a peace and quiet that they didn't associate with home, with no Dad in sight. Daryl was skunk-drunk and giggling. Merle was less so when they parted ways on the second floor and both sunk into their beds, exhausted after a fun night out.


End file.
